Barista

She was French, I assumed, from her name tag which read “Colette". She had these intense blue eyes but not the poetic kind, not oceans or rivers but if a red traffic light turned blue. 

Her hair was twisted into a fluffy blonde braid that draped politely over her left shoulder. She seemed bright, but not overly brilliant. Young, but not overly attractive.

I was compelled by the way her hands worked, diligently and with strength. I watched as she poured steamed milk into cardboard coffee cups and stirred sugar into tea. She was content and although I could not predict what the rest of her day would bring, I hoped she would continue to smile. 

For even though I may forget her smile tomorrow, I’ll remember it for the rest of my day. 

~lmw

(Photo by Lexi Wright)