Tag Archives: coffee shops

Postcards

Small Things ….

Paused for a coffee on my way to a morning medical appointment. 

Got in line behind a guy in the middle of picking out a bunch of stuff. 

“Gimme a couple of those, and one of those,” he said, pointing at the pile of yesterday’s pepperoni rolls they keep on the counter, and the breakfast burritos warming in a case next to the register. 

Looked to me like he was being spontaneously thoughtful. Like it had just occurred to him to pick up some goodies to surprise whoever his peeps were.

I’m a sucker for spontaneous thoughtfulness. 

After confirming that he meant ‘two’ for ‘a couple,’ the young person behind the counter reached for the pepperoni rolls.

After she picked one up, I heard her say softly to herself, “Oh, that one’s small,” then watched as she put the pepperoni roll she had in her hand back … and pull another out from the bottom of the pile.

The guy didn’t even see her do it. 

Had already skooched to the side to wait for his stuff.

Struck me as both the smallest thing and the biggest thing.  

When it was my turn in line, I told her I appreciated how she put the small one back. 

She smiled. 

“Yeah, I can’t help it,” she said. “I always think about what I’d want, you know?”

I wanted so much to say, “Me too!” 

Because that’s how I think about things … though I don’t sell yesterday’s pepperoni rolls for a living.  

“Even when I pick something out of the case, I try and look for the ‘good’ ones,” she added.

What I loved about how she put it is that I knew exactly what she meant, without having any idea exactly what she meant.

Just that it had nothing to do with whether anybody else noticed.

I don’t know why something so small that wasn’t meant to be seen moved me so much. 

I mean … if they keep sellin’ like yesterday’s hot cakes, somebody might eventually get the pepperoni runt, … so does it even matter? 

I dunno. 

Maybe because it’s been my experience that how you do the small things is how you do the big things. 

Or maybe I just need reminded sometimes that there are others out there trying to look for the good ones, too. 

Standard
People / Places, Postcards

An Incomplete List of Things That Got Me Through the Last Week of F*cking January, 2026

While scrolling my Monday in-box last week, I was gifted language for something I have felt but never had words for. 

When I stumble across such treasure, I try and make a point to write the word down in my journal.

I think of it like picking up seashells along a beach. 

The word came courtesy of Creative Mornings, whose January theme came courtesy of their Tehran chapter. 

I’ve copied their explanation here. Don’t think they’d mind. 

کورسو or Koorsoo (pronounced Koor·Soo) is a Farsi word meaning a glimmer of hope.

“In our darkest hours, when everything seems to have dimmed, sometimes a light remains—not bright, not certain, but real. That is Koorsoo—a faint glimmer of hope that dares to survive. Koorsoo is not about triumph or clarity; it is about the fragile yet unwavering light that keeps us going. A glance, a memory, a word—small things that prevent collapse. It represents the quiet resilience of those who continue in spite of the weight, who believe without guarantee. In a world that often normalizes despair, Koorsoo is a rebellion—soft, but profound. It reminds us: even the smallest spark matters.” 

My Monday morning — by which I mean my January — needed that reminder …  

… almost but not quite as much as I needed caffeine driving up Main Street Thursday morning before work. 

Anymore, I find my days need some back-up … which is among the reasons I collect seashells … metaphorically keep them in my pockets … so I can run my hands over their contour to remember, to remind myself.

Sometimes when I get to the small coffee shop when it opens, the sun’s still low enough in the sky to bathe the interior bright. 

After giving my eyes a couple seconds to adjust, I noticed their humble logo reflected on an interior wall, crisp as a projection.

A fragile yet unwavering light.  

I asked Fiona if they knew when they built the place that the sun would reflect like that, or if that was just a happy accident. 

She wasn’t sure, but said it’s her favorite thing. 

If we only knew how our light reflects sometimes.

After paying for my double cortado to go, I handed her a little extra cash for a pay-it-forward.

Spoke aloud the names aloud of a handful of humans who had recently reserved some kind thoughts in their day for me.  

If we only knew how our light reflects sometimes.

Sitting here with my Sunday morning … a new month turned over … still needing reminders … still collecting sea shells … still remembering the importance of sharing our koorsoo with the world around us. 

Standard