This morning I came to Starbucks to write.

I had to leave my dear husband or today would go like every other Saturday: I rise early and sneak out to the back porch with my laptop. I settle into my favorite chair, inspired by the balmy air and peaceful greenery. My fingers begin to fly across the keyboard when he tumbles out looking like a puppy ready to play. His big brown eyes droop a little and he asks, “Do you mind if I sit out here with you a while?” I love this man. How can I refuse? I push my laptop to the side. We sit and talk. I get another cup of coffee. One or both of our college age children pass through. By now it is time for lunch. We eat. I return to the porch only to find my writer’s muse chopped up in the annoying growl of the neighbor’s lawnmower.

Here at Starbucks my headphones drown out the shuffle of feet, and the conversations of people starting their day. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounds me, and flows to my brain sip by sip. And now, happily anonymous, I will write.