A Morning at Patrick’s

Morning time.

Four men sit at a table under the arches of sprawling leaf covered branches, accompanied by a sole woman. Raucous roars reverberate, bouncing off the metal panelled fence. Voices rise and fall as hands makes gestures with enthusiastic vigour. Pauses of silence are occasional. Less often, a wave of seriousness creeps over their faces.

Piped background music softens nearby morning traffic sounds. Tranquillity falls within the confines of this fenced parcel of land. Decades ago, it was a bare patch. Today, it is a gathering place where people congregate indoors and out as they savour beverages and food delights.

With precision, the server carries a citrus tart on their wrist whilst balancing a coffee mug on a saucer in their left hand. In their right, they carry a bottle of water and a glass. They arrive at my table without a single creak from the weathered floorboards underfoot on this verandah. Their skills are impressive.

People come and go, most in pairs. Another sole lady sat in a far back corner, ate, drank her coffee, and departed.

I linger.

This setting is too peaceful to leave because here my thoughts are free to drift like fallen leaves floating on a breeze. It allows for solitude and connection with others, when I choose. A suitable mix for my ambivert self, especially in the morning time.

I savour each morsel of tangy citrus tart that dances on my tastebuds whilst gazing between trees to the park across the road with manicured green grass, shady spots, and children running and exploring. Sips of liquid silk glide down my throat. Peacefulness.

Quiet solitude is a friendly companion and welcome any time.

The gentle tap on my shoulder is noticeable but not startling. It is familiar. Fumbling in my handbag, fingers search for a pen and my journal. I learnt to pay attention the moment my muse visits. A joyous warmth courses through my body as words form on the blank pages.

Creativity flows with ease in this serene space of nourishing energy. I had not planned to write today. My time here is for my soul, and to relax, to restore. My muse showing up, prompting me to write, is a sweet layer of deliciousness on top.

For a minute, I lose focus as I hear two gents of retirement age yarning about folks they know. One gent’s replies alternate between yeah, yeah, yeah and right, right, right.

Human behaviour fascinates me so.


morning at Patrick's Café

Photo by Mumma Sue: Patrick’s Café, Dubbo

Read more of my musings, poetry, and short fiction here

Learn more about Patrick’s here


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