Mocha Moment

One night last week neither of us wanted to fix dinner, so we headed to the hospital cafeteria in Coupeville where we knew we could get a good meal cheap--sliced pork tenderloin, au gratin potatoes and roasted carrots for $4.00.  While filling our water glasses, I noticed a coffee/cappuccino machine sitting by the water dispenser.  There were eight choices and the price was right.  Twelve ounce cappuccinos or mochas or coffee or hot chocolate were $1.20.  That bit of information got tucked into the back of my mind.  Several times over the next few days, the mocha possibility popped into my mind but was quickly dismissed.  This afternoon we filled the back of the car with trash and recyclables and took them to the recycle center and dump in Coupeville. The clear glass goes into this bin, separated from the green and brown glass, and the flattened cardboard goes over there.  Sort the soda cans from the soup cans, the paper from the plastic.  Done.  On the way home I suggested that we stop at the hospital for a cappuccino.  It was raining and a cool 54 degrees, and we deserved a treat.  No one was in the cafeteria.  We chose our drinks--mochas--and watched while the machine miraculously did its thing. We punched the button. First the hot espresso poured into the paper cup.  It stopped and the hot chocolate streamed in.  It stopped and was topped off by steaming milk.  Repeat.  We paid our $2.60 and sat down at the corner table which had a pretty bouquet of flowers in the middle.  Hobart placed me in a chair facing a huge window and said, "Look."  He pointed to the horizon where I could see cars cresting a hill and then heading down toward town.  "Isn't that a wonderful view?" he commented. "I sat there last week and enjoyed that view.  I want you to enjoy it today."  We sipped our hot drinks.  Perfect.  Better than Starbucks (which is a risky thing to say out loud in Washington.)  We had a moment...a wonderful moment...enjoying our mochas, visiting, and watching the cars appear and disappear to unknown destinations.  Recycling has its rewards.  

Thriving

In the middle of a cul-de-sac, in the middle of a hole in the asphalt, this little flower chose to take roots and grow.  No, it isn't an ideal spot and the risks are great--cars pass by or over it many times daily, but the blossom reaches for the sun and creates beauty anyway.  I found this flower on my morning walk.  I went home, got my camera and returned to take its picture because I was touched by its tenacity.  I've known people like this--planted in a less-than-desirable spot, surrounded by the ugly or ordinary, and yet adding beauty by their courage.  I'll go back to visit my flower this morning to celebrate its brief life and be blessed by its message.  

 Pausing

Hobart pauses.  He gets into the car, puts the key in the lock, puts his hands on the wheel and pauses.  He sits down at the table and looks at his food.  He pauses.  He makes his cup of coffee every morning, grinding the beans, heating the water, putting it all in the French press, waiting, pouring it slowly into his favorite cup, carrying it carefully to his recliner in the living room where he sits down, looks at the cup of coffee.......and pauses.  

I asked him about his habit of pausing.  He doesn't recall when or why it started.  It's just a habit.  It's just Hobart.  I love it.  It reveals so much about him--the deliberate way he lives his life, his attention to detail, his refusal to hurry through a chore, a store, an activity or a thoughtful expression.  I have been to church with Hobart five times. Four out of the five times, we were the last ones out of the building.  He takes his time in a world that is scurrying to get there faster in order to do more in less time.  

His habit of pausing is his unique way to experience the moment.  What an incredible gift!  And I am learning.  It never occurred to me to pause and study the cookie before biting into it like Hobart does. I've watched him observe people walking by and he is paying close attention to learn something about them from the way they are moving. During the ballet he commented quietly about the piccolo he was hearing. What I have always known but now can observe in Hobart is that moments are precious and all I have to do to find one is to pause.  
  

Hobart, pausing with his morning cookie

Hobart, pausing in the closet

Hobart, pausing to look at the mountains

Hobart, pausing to watch the sunset 

On Wednesday we had a magic moment when we were invited to Hobart's friends' B&B for lunch.  Delicious lunch, charming home, and wonderful people!  What a treat!

Hobart and Jan
(and me in the mirror)

Compass Rose B&B in Coupeville, WA

Fountain at Seattle Center

Pacific Northwest Ballet Theater

After my long day of travel on Saturday, we drove into Seattle Sunday for the matinee of Cappelia at the Pacific Northwest Ballet.  It was spectacular! Afterwards we walked around Seattle Center, ate and then took the ferry home. What a beautiful day and a wonderful adventure.  I've always thought it would be fun to live on the coast and now I'm doing it.  

Here I go

In 48 hours my new life on Whidbey Island with Hobart will begin.  The past year has been filled with moments and magic.  A year ago in June Jim was dying and I realized I could no longer take care of him at home.  The moment came to move him to Remarkable Healthcare and for the next week the family gathered around him to love and comfort him in his final days.  The magic came on June 17, 2011, when he allowed us to be with him as he took his last breath.  We were blessed to be able to hold his hands as we sensed his precious soul leaving his body.  The months passed, some better than others.  The holidays were difficult but I experienced another wonderful moment when Laurie's family gave me an early Christmas present, Sadie Lou, a soft fluffy puppy to ease my pain and loneliness.  The magic was how she transformed my life and filled my heart as she played and wiggled her way into my world.  


In March the moment that transformed my life was the phone call from Laurie Beth, informing me that Hobart was looking for me from Oak Harbor, WA.  The magic began when I picked up the phone, called him, and heard his deep joyful laughter as he answered the phone.  The past three months have been filled with both moments and magic--hours on the phone, my trip to Whidbey Island, his trip to Texas, reunions with family and friends, introducing ourselves into each other's cultures and lives.  On Saturday we will begin life together permanently, splitting time between Whidbey Island (Home North) in the summers and Texas (Home South) in the winters.  Life is good.  

Happy!