Thoughts on Departure (change)

I love the idea of sitting in a coffee shop. I can hear the tinkle of the doorbell as you walk in the door, the smell of coffee beans, steaming milk, and the musky odor of old wood. It is cozy and warm and people are sat are their perspective tables and benches, noses down, coffees in hand, and to do lists at their elbows. It depends on the time of day of course, for if you were to come in the morning, most people are there for a quick espresso and a bite to eat with friends, you will hear laughter and busy, pleasant chatter between barista and customer as each starts their day in the same way, at the front counter to order. The afternoon crowd consists of iced lattes and student huddles, a quiet, studious atmosphere with perhaps a jazz tune or two, while the evening provides much needed solace from hard work and the various disappointments of the day. I love the idea of coming in early to the buzz of voices and good music, walking up to the counter to order, “twelve ounce white-chocolate lavender latte, hot please.” I love to think that I would order “for here,” wait patiently in line and give a quick gaze about me to find a good table near the window. My drink would be called and I would walk gingerly over to my chosen spot to lay the large, white cup on the table- brimming to overflowing, steaming and hot, and always with a neat, carefully precise design drawn with steamed milk. I would sit and gaze out the window, enjoying the moment, without a care in the world, cozy and warm…

However, sadly this is not the case. It takes me a while to find a reason why I deserve to buy myself a coffee, “that’s money I could spend elsewhere, for college, or for a house someday.” Eventually, I will make it through that door, but instead of a leisurely stay, enjoying the moment and relishing in every sip, I rush in and order the only thing I know, “ twelve ounce vanilla latte, hot please,” I then stare at my phone so as to not be noticed and steadily begin to criticize my outfit, the way I am standing, wondering if it looks like I am staring at that man in the yellow tie, or if it seems like I am eavesdropping on that nice couple’s conversation. I order “to go” and quickly make my way to the counter to seize my prize and head as fast and as quietly as possible out the door. I don’t stop to look back or to sit a bit outside, I rush head forward, eyes down hoping that I won’t be noticed and yet at the same time, desperately wishing someone will remember me.


This has been the case for a long time. As a child, I yearned for adventure and craved stimulus at every moment. I lived in a separate reality from the one I walked in everyday and every moment was lived twice, both in actuality and in my mind. I was never just Bronwyn, I had multiple identities, my history and story changing as the moment dictated, as my thought and mood moved it. Through my mind, I could be anyone, anywhere. Was it wrong to want to be believe in happy endings, that there was more than growing up, having families, and growing old? What if there was so much more? What if there was a magic that just hadn’t been discovered yet, not magic in the sense of wizards and witches, but a magic that pulsed through every vein, that made everything more beautiful and meaningful, a place where maybe even talking fauns served cake and tea. I would ponder this all over in my mind, and concluded that is must be true, we just weren’t brave enough to discover it yet.
My life has always been colored by many emotions. I have always been over dramatic and stubborn, wanting to see the world in a different light than what it is already painted. And it hurts, to come out of that bubble I created, and find that it was not so, the way I imagined, and that most likely, it would never be.

Now, I cringe at the very thought of leaving the cozy, safe confines of my home and venturing outside. Oh, I love the idea of it, deep in my heart I love the thought of gallivanting about the world. . . somewhere, deep inside, my heart still yearns like a child to adventure and seek the unknown, but the older me has grown a hard shell.

I am loathe to embrace change, for I feel a hobbit at heart and cling to home and comfort as it has been. But even a hobbit can learn to accept change, to spread their theoretical wings and lift off to fly high and unhindered by cares or worries. For however lost I feel, when I feel that I can no longer hold on and that my grasp is about to give way, when the waves are too high and the sky too dark to see, when my strength gives way and I feel alone and abandoned, I know that my cries are not unheard, that I am not forgotten. For he will send out an army and will never stop marching until we are home. For this is his promise.

“You are not hidden

There's never been a moment

You were forgotten

You are not hopeless

Though you have been broken

Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you

In the middle of the darkest night

It's true, I will rescue you

I will never stop marching to reach you

In the middle of the hardest fight

It's true, I will rescue you..”

Lauren Daigle- Rescue

(Look Up Child)