I'll Take My Coffee With Cream And Boundaries

Apparently I have an ability to move people. And by “move” I mean “get them to go.”

Super Hubs and I went to breakfast this morning at our favorite Greek greasy spoon. It’s a little diner with all kinds of artery-revolting deliciousness. They let us seat ourselves, charge us next to nothing, and the food is served within 3 minutes. What could be better? I truly believe everyone needs a favorite little hole-in-the-wall. They are one of life’s pure pleasures.

We had just sat down and were given our menus when I saw an old friend walk in. She was a fellow comrade from my homeschool days, but I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Over the years, we’d gone to a conference or two together, shared curriculum, and occasionally socialized. I loved that she was a Free-Spirited Hippie. If she’d been a generation older, I’m certain she would have been Barefooted, Beaded and Beflowered.

She walked into the diner alone, and sat down at the booth behind us. I happily greeted her, and asked if she wanted to join our table. She shook her head. She was less than friendly, and dismissed me by reading her newpaper. In retrospect, I should have taken her standoffish attitude as a hint that she wanted to be alone. But that’s not who I am. I see “alone” and I want to fix “lonely.” I see pain and I want to make it painless. I am a nurturer by nature, often times to an unhealthy degree. I saw something in her face that said she wasn’t in a good place. So I asked, “Are you doing okay?” With that simple question, she got up from the table, burst into tears and ran out of the diner door.

The other diner patrons followed her with their eyes, then looked back at me as if I was Queen of the Drama Creating. I was stunned. My internal voice mocked me: “Way to go, Kel!” Super Hubs shook his head at me, and ordered an omelette.

I don‘t know what was wrong with my old friend, and I probably never will. I am sad for her, and wish her well. If I still had her phone number, I would give her a call. I feel just awful. It’s a talent of mine. (Big sigh.)