The three men at the coffee shop…

by

They sit there–the three of them–at the table by the window in the coffee shop I often write at.

It seems like they’re always there lately, whether it’s at the beginning of the month or the end,

whether it’s a Monday or a Friday.

The same three men, the same table, the same mugs they bring from home.

They’re older…

with gray hair,

weathered skin,

and deep laugh lines.

I admit; I’ve listened to their conversations.

It’s hard not to.

They talk with that sense of familiarity that makes you curious to know what they’re saying,

and how they came to be such good friends.

(You can tell that they are.)

They talk about family,

and news,

and retirement,

and politics.

Sometimes they disagree and their voices get loud,

and their gestures get animated,

but they never get angry.

Most of the time though,

they simply share stories,

and ask each other questions,

and smile.

Every so often, one of them will talk quietly–too quietly for other people in the coffee shop to hear–and by the way the other two men lean in with a look of concern on their faces, you know they’re discussing something serious,

maybe even sad.

But you also know,

just by watching them,

that whatever the burden may be,

it is lighter when they leave,

because they’ve spent time together.

And that’s what being with true friends does.

Doesn’t it?

May you be surrounded by a multitude of true friends today!

Other friendship stories:
The story about the best friends on the train
The story about the friends in the coffee shop