- 1 -
"Hey, you know what would be fun to do with this place?"
I hand her her coffee; an americano with a little bit of caramel, just like always. Looking up from the table, she tilts her head forward to peer at me over the rims of her glasses, fingering the large yellow ring on her finger. Bright red lipstick, platinum blonde hair, and the most fabulous accent you could ask for; her seemingly stern countenance is overridden by a twinkle in her eyes.
"Hm? What would that be Missy?"
"Swing dancing. Some Sunday when you're closed, we could push all the tables and chairs against the walls, and have a swing dance party! You've got the perfect setting; smooth wood floor, chandeliers, working sound system, Paris theme...... It would be awesome! You could even rent the place out and make some extra cash or something.... I don't know. I think that would be fun."
Her expression is one of uncertainty. As the idea turns in her head, I can picture her thinking of all the hassle that one more extra project would do to an already crammed schedule. I'm not overly concerned though. I was just thinking out loud really.
A new twinkle suddenly glints in her eye, and she catches me with one of her unexpected, brilliant, beautiful smiles. She laughs slightly then turns back to her work. Without looking back at me again, she says,...
"For your wedding."
- 2 -
From across the table, I watch as he tears the paper wrapper off of a straw, and slides it through the hole on the lid to his coffee. With a straight face, he looks at me, and cautiously sips the hot beverage. A couple seconds go by as I watch him, unimpressed, and he pretends that drinking coffee with a straw is normal.
Then suddenly he giggles, and we are both laughing. I clap my hand over my mouth as his head hits the table in a facedesk maneuver, looking around to make sure we aren't disturbing the other coffee shop customers. When I look back, he is grinning out the window. The sunlight catches his eyes, and I can't believe how grown up he has become. Craziness and all, a heart of gold shines through his smile, and I feel a pang of sadness and pride in my heart.
My brother is a man.
- 3 -
The cool, moist air blows across my face as we head home through the rain-scented town. A rainbow arches brilliantly across the sky, and from the passenger seat I hear a whisper:
"God has not forgotten us."
Truly, truly, He has not. Oh how blessed we are.
"Praise the Lord, oh my soul, all my inmost being, praise His holy name!"
We are not forgotten.