A midwest morning with coffee is as far as I’ve gotten with my new year resolutions.
No half-n-half in the fridge brings me downstairs and across the street to what is known as Oregon’s Living Room but the back door is locked and Meg is sleeping in this morning and her coffee shop is closed up tight.
A spin on my heel circles me around to assess my options.
Under the old water tower Geo’s Cantina is empty. Main Street Bar and Tap has bloody’s going but I know the mud in the bottom of the pot tempts no one.
I need coffee.
Holly waves me over from the corner door of the homestyle kitchen just below my apartment where most sunrises meet me with the telltale signs that the bacon is ready downstairs and typically the chatter coming up through the floor to my place tells me the sweetness of Chef Scott’s Pain Perdu is bringing people together this morning.
I’m on the ground already, so I turn and head to Holly’s smile.
As I enter, I see I am not alone in my search for java.
Across the room, at a black and white checkered table Zanda, with her oversized glasses and hair up in a a french twist parks a couple of middle aged hangovers. She gets them settled with a sordid story about her wintry New Years eve drive to and from the northernmost part of the state. There is no glamorous bringing in of the New Year through Zanda- she recommends the chive and cheddar omelette for that.
It’s the first morning of the New Year, 2017.
I have made no resolutions.
I decide, on the spot, to steal my friend Janeen’s which is, “Have even MORE fun,” and I acknowledge that 2016’s goal to “Be Authentic” has failed.
So I take on, “More Fun” and raise it with the commitment to be kind to myself and step away from the replay of the old and done.
She’s letting it go. It’s the only way.