Reaching for the Wind

Reaching for the Wind

     “Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

                                                                            - Lord Alfred Tennyson

Fate. Who knows what motivates the Master Planner as He moves the pieces around the board? It’s all about time and place.

Autumn days bring a crispness to the air that refreshes the mind and body. It’s a splash of cold water in the face that readies one for the day ahead. Sameness, day after day after day, welcomes it.

Matt had been mired in that barren land lying somewhere between bored and unhappy for as long as he could remember. Escape seemed unlikely as incurable romantics are, for the most part, doomed to a life of want followed by disappointment.

As Matt walked down Main Street that October afternoon, the cool breeze in his face put a spring in his step and seemed to carry a message of hope, the arrival of a new day, perhaps a turning point in his life. He had a good feeling.

Matt could never understand why anyone would pay $5.00 for a cup of coffee at Starbucks when they could get one at McDonald’s for 99¢. It was not a big concern of his as Matt rarely drank coffee, but on this day one foot followed the other into the tasteful décor of the higher-priced beverage. It would be the most consequential spontaneous diversion of his life.

Looking back on it, Matt couldn’t understand how he didn’t notice her at first. It would be like not noticing a bright full moon rising over the treetops or a blinding flash of lightning that lit up the sky. He had often dreamed of the image seated in the corner, alone, working on a laptop, and beautiful beyond description. Matt struggled to come up with a word to describe her. He finally hit on it – perfect.

Matt would have been less shocked if a little green Martian had sauntered in and ordered a double latte something-something with extra cream. Over the years, his dream of finding true love had dissolved into an illusion, and suddenly the dream was seated just across the room. Matt was mesmerized by the moment.

Can one see inner beauty? Matt did. He knew. Buttercup, Cinderella, and the Girl Next Door all packed into one light brown sweater. He felt calm, at peace just to look at her.

Now what, Matt? He was frozen in his chair, but that was ok. Even with twenty feet between them, these were the best moments of his life.

She continued to type away on her laptop, and Matt ordered coffee after coffee. He was that car-chasing dog that finally caught one and didn’t know what to do with it. One hour into the event, it finally occurred to Matt that nothing would come of the encounter unless he introduced himself to her. Matt had never been in such a position. Her presence was intimidating. What would he say? He didn’t see a ring, but a girl so beautiful had to be in a relationship. Fear of rejection, the curse of most young men seeking romance, overtook the moment, and Matt remained at his table. His heart skipped a beat as the beautiful girl packed up her papers and laptop, and left.

Drained. It was the most emotional two hours of his life. Matt nursed another cup of coffee for the next half hour. He beat himself up for not having tried to meet her, but he would keep the image of her beauty in his mind and heart forever. That alone would make his life better than it was that morning.

Return to the mundane. Work, sleep, shop for groceries, workouts at the Y, hit the bars with his buddy Clay in search of romance, or at least a night of worldly pleasures.

“Matt, what’s wrong.?”

“Nothing, Clay. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“You’re not going to score if you don’t take the field. Get out there and mingle, man.”

“Maybe later.”

“It seems like your mind is somewhere else, Matt.”

It was. His heart was no longer into these time-honored hunts for female companionship. He was there only because of his friendship with Clay for Matt knew no one he would ever meet in such places could measure up to the girl in the light brown sweater.

 He couldn’t get her off his mind. They were bittersweet moments, a wonderful memory tinged with the sad realization she would never be his true love for life. Or could she?

Courage. Matt needed some. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror and gave himself a pep talk.

She was alone at Starbucks. Maybe she didn’t have a boyfriend. Maybe he could stop in at Starbucks and find her with her laptop at that corner table. Maybe he could ask her if he could join her at the table. Maybe she would smile and say yes. Maybe they would discover they had much in common. Maybe she would like him. Maybe they would find true love in each other. Maybe they would marry and live in a nice home in the suburbs. Maybe they would grow old together and still be holding hands as they walked down an aisle at the grocery store. And maybe pigs will fly someday.   

 But this wouldn’t be as difficult as the search for the girl with the glass slippers. If she had been to Starbucks once, she could be there again. Matt set up camp at Starbucks.

He became their number one customer. After the first four visits, he started bringing his laptop along to give the appearance he was doing something with a purpose. Matt may have been a slow starter, but once he got going, he remained dedicated to the task. Seven days a week, from 5:00 P.M. to 6:00 P.M., Matt was on duty, one eye on the door and one eye on nothing at all. He tried almost every latte and coffee offered on the menu board and was on a first-name basis with every barista who worked the late afternoon shift.

“Good afternoon, Matt, would you like to try a White Chocolate Mocha Cappuccino today?”

“Sure, why not.”

Twenty-two days in a row and not a sign of her, but Matt waited and watched with the dedication and passion of Ahab. He even offered a reward to Starbucks staff should they report a sighting in his absence, but the provided description of “the most beautiful girl in the world” seemed a bit vague.

“You go to Starbucks every day, Matt?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt, you’re a stalker.”

“I’m not stalking anyone, Clay. I stay in one place and wait for her to come to me.”

“I guess that works. Listen, if you’re not having any luck finding her, why don’t you try prayer?”

“What?! You’re suggesting I pray for something? You? Prayer? That doesn’t seem like you, Clay.”

“Just covering all the bases. It couldn’t hurt.”

There is no place more conducive to prayer than an empty church at night. Absolute quiet, the mystique of votive candles casting flickering shadows against the wall, and a feeling God must be nearby.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to pray for things like this, God, but I really need your help. I saw this girl at Starbucks. You probably know that. Well, I need to meet her. I need to be with her. I think you were the one who said it said it…it is not good for man to be alone. I don’t want to be alone.”

The power of prayer. Sometimes it can move mountains; other times, not so much. Two more weeks, and still no sighting.

“Did you try it?”

“Yeah, I even went to a church… prayed my brains out.”

“Maybe you just don’t sound sincere enough.”

“I’ve got to sound sincere? You didn’t tell me that part. That would seem to be critical information.”

“You should have known that all by yourself! You think you’re going to B.S. God? Of course, you have to sound sincere. Gees.”

Matt sat in the pew and rolled out prayer after prayer with the sincerity of George Bailey. He felt the enterprise akin to trying to make himself taller by wishing it so. The effort proved fruitless.

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, Matt. If she’s as beautiful as you say, maybe God is trying to save you from being humiliated in a public place.”

“Thanks, Clay.”

Matt had seen the movie about Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonald’s, who attributed his success to “persistence.” Armed with the formidable tools of sincerity and persistence, Matt continued his quest.

“Good morning, Matt. How about a nice Salted Carmel Cream Cold Brew?”

“It’s freezing cold outside… and snowing, Jan.”

“It’s the only thing you haven’t tried.”

“Fine.”

The human spirit can only take so much. In the end, even Geronimo surrendered.

“How’s the stalking going?”

“It wasn’t stalking, Clay, and I threw in the towel. I haven’t been to Starbucks for weeks.”

“Quitter.”

Work, sleep, shop for groceries, workouts at the Y, hit the bars with Clay. Normalcy returned, safe and secure normalcy, but boring and disappointing as a cold cheeseburger in a soggy bun.

“Sharon has a friend. She’s really cute. We could all go out this weekend”

“No thanks, Clay.”

“You’re going to grow old with a dream?”

“I don’t know, maybe I will.”

It didn’t seem possible. Alone at night, Matt wondered how his life could be so disrupted by a single encounter. But mostly he thought of her, the girl in the light brown sweater… her tousled blonde hair, a hint of a smile when there was no reason for it, her calming presence, and the inner beauty he could feel. The girl who once sat just twenty feet away had become a ghost.

Matt didn’t stop his daily visits to Starbucks cold turkey. He had to wean himself off of it. He cut the hour to a half hour, then he cut it down to the fifteen minutes it took him to down a cup of whatever it was he ordered. A big step was placing “to go” orders. Finally, he only took casual walks past the coffee shop, pausing for a peek or two inside. Then, total abstinence.

The weeks went by, but his heart remained as troubled as it was the very first night after he saw her. Sometimes he wished he had never entered Starbucks that day, but that seemed to be some kind of betrayal, and he dreamed on.

“Maybe you need some kind of therapy, Matt. You’re getting into nut-job territory.”

“I’m ok, Clay.”

“But you are so obsessed with this girl. It’s not normal, Matt.”

“You never saw her, Clay.”

Maybe you don’t need to be in a church to pray. In bed that night, Matt prayed without really knowing it. It was sincere.

The hand of the Master. The earth seemed tilted that Saturday morning. Instead of heading north on his regular route for his three-mile run, Matt was pulled in a southerly direction, closer to downtown, closer to the Starbucks. He was on autopilot, again following his footsteps down Mainstreet. The front door of Starbucks was an irresistible magnet. He entered.

She was there. Same table, same laptop, same light brown sweater. The ability to think quickly left him, and Matt walked straight to her table. He struggled to regain the gift of speech. The nearly empty coffee shop did not dissuade Matt from uttering the line that had passed through his mind a thousand times.

“Excuse me, would you mind if I joined you at your table?”

She looked up. A smile, this time a real smile. Matt’s heart darn near stopped. She looked around at all the vacant tables, and her smile grew wider.

“I wouldn’t mind. Sure, sit down.”

It was the voice of an angel- sweet, calm, assuring. Matt had always imagined the moment would overwhelm him, but it didn’t. It seemed so natural. He felt like he belonged there, with her at this time and place. The next words were not rehearsed, but they came easily. He spoke the truth.

“I have a secret to tell you, a confession of sorts.”

She looked puzzled.

“What’s that?”

“I saw you in here… months ago. I wanted to see you again. The secret is I came here every afternoon for months hoping to find you here, and I don’t even like coffee. It must sound like stalking. I hope you’re not offended.”

Now a smile that challenged description.

“I too have a secret.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t like coffee either, but I’ve been coming in here every morning hoping I’d find you here.”

Now Matt’s heart did stop.

“Every morning?”

“Yes, we were here in the morning that day.”

Morning? Oh, my God.

“And you were here looking for me?”

“Yes.”

Men don’t like to cry, especially in front of a woman, but Matt did that day. He cried as hard he did when Old Yeller met his maker or when Fievel the Mouse and his Mom looked at the same moon. And then the girl in the light brown sweater cried. It’s always special when two dreams meet.

The mocha something-something lattes were on the house.