At times when I’m busy writing, I can lose focus on things, like why I’m writing in the first place. It takes an unexpected situation, good or bad to jolt me back into reality. This time, I’m glad to say this jolt I experienced is a good one.
On a cloudy, rainy Saturday afternoon I decided to spend a night at the Hilton Rosemont, it’s near O’Hare Airport. Don’t ask why a diehard city guy like me would choose a place like that. You can ask; it’s a nice, mid-sized hotel with a great bar, good food, great staff and a vibe that fuels my inspiration. I stumbled upon the hotel about two years ago while exploring the nearby Fashion Outlets, a place that has great deals on all kinds of designer shit, real shit, not knock-offs. Never understood the whole knock-off craze. Anyway, after I checked in (shout out to Justin at the front office) I went over to the lobby Starbuck’s, got a dark roast and became engaged in a friendly conversation with the barista named Anna. At first, Anna, an older barista than you’d normally see in a city Starbuck’s was overly talkative and I felt myself overwhelmed with her, but as she continued I decided to step out of my selfish Chicago ( I only have two seconds to spare) attitude and listened to Anna. She was going on and on about how she sold her home in Chicago and bought a smaller house in the western suburbs, not far from her job at the Hilton Starbuck’s.
I could barely get a nod, let alone a word in edgewise, but I listened as she mentioned Bolden, her late husband. She talked about her new home and the garden that she worked so hard on, laboriously planting tomatoes, potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli and even beans. Anna wouldn’t come up for air. My Chicago attitude and time selfishness began to take over again, but she mentioned her late husband Bolden again and I took notice. It was then that I started to understand her a little better. She mentioned Rick, her new fiancee, but Bolden kept coming up. Anna continued with her story; her description of her garden was vibrant, dramatic and she told it like I’d imagine reading one of my fictional stories aloud. Listening to her got my creative juices flowing. Luckily there were no other customers looking for coffee a the moment. She spoke about her garden so much that the only other natural step was for me to ask for pictures. Before I could blink, her phone was in my face.
I was looking at a beautiful garden and I was impressed. It made me hopeful that I’d be able to take care of my own home someday. The sweet little barista named Anna had inspired me. I’m not sure exactly what she inspired, but she inspired me to write this post.
I had to offer my condolences about Bolden. I asked respectfully when he had passed away. She told me 2008. Nobody knows better than me how the loss of a loved one can change your life forever. I took something from Anna’s story. She didn’t directly tell me, but I know her dedication to her garden and all the work she put into it came from a place of pain. She needed a focus, something else to care for after Bolden was gone and the result was beautiful. She was proud of her garden.
As I had my coffee and was ready to go to my room, I repeated to Anna how beautiful her garden was and she said to me, “Franchot my garden looks the way it does because I dreamed, visualized and lived like it could really happen.”
