Writing Prompt: Coffee Shop Reverie

Exercises in Creative Writing

White flakes drift slowly down from my AI-generated ambience video. Where am I? Is it London, Paris, New York City? Cuddled under a soft pendelton blanket, I stare longingly at the screen before me. A white mug of a perfectly brewed latte sits with heart-shaped foam beauty while steam climbs upward, sometimes for several hours… it never gets cold! The chocolate covered pastries to the left sit on a plate waiting to be devoured, but never do! I wonder if I can have all five of them. Would that be too greedy of me? And a blank journal sits perched upright on the table beckoning me to come and write something down with pen and ink, perhaps words to inspire, to process, to dream, to create a Tolkien-worthy epic? Of course, there is the large pillar candle in the rose tinted glass pitcher. It warms the whole scene with nothing other than coziness with an eternal flicker of flame that never melts the wax. Lanterns line the street of a quiet city of buildings, where there is no hustle, no conflict, no impatient drivers or pedestrians, and the sun never sets. Still, the everlasting digital snow falls on weary ancient trees whose branches twist and turn reaching upward, holding the snow as it falls, yet never accumulating more snow. It’s an eternal moment that could last for 12 hours in length as jazz music plays in the background. I want it to last for hours, that one moment of everything as it should be… the hot espresso, a full candle, snow that falls softly, quiet peacefulness, and donuts magically staying fresh and in ample supply! This is delightful.

But is everything as it should be in a digitally crafted world? No. I know what is going on in my heart. It’s both longing and idolatry. It’s the longing for goodness and beauty, peace and provision, satisfaction that never ends which is a longing given to us as part of our nature. But seeking that here, on this screen, like it should somehow satisfy all those things? That’s where my heart has built an idol. Just like all idols, this make-believe scene so carefully programmed and delivered to my home from satellites in the afternoon twilight of a winter’s day, is not alive. There is no organic nature to it. I am made utterly aware of that whenever a commercial for women’s healthcare products interrupts my tranquil reverie, or when the scene abruptly repeats itself mid-snowfall. It’s a lovely background that reminds me of the real world I’m living in, the living world made by the living God.

This world is alive, where snowstorms descend on nearby mountains with the power of the wind so strong that it rips through forests with its torrents of snow, where dew drops form on spider webs so delicate that no refraction of light is like the next. This world is unpredictable even in its predictability, precision, and created order. I want a hot cup of espresso that grows cold, because that means I am in a living world. I want a candle whose steady heat melts the wax to the wick because by it, I can measure time. I want a plate full of pastries to be savored, and not just for myself, but in company with others, because that means shared experience. I want to see people walking, snow swirling in new patterns, affected by the wind, tossed here and there, at times delicate, at others times huge chunks of snow filling up the yard so we can make snowmen with our mittened hands. I want to breathe the smells of the coffee shop, hear the sound of the traffic and the people passing by, as dusk settles in, and the jazz player closes her piano lid for the night. I want to hear “We’re closing now,” while I sip the last drips of the cold coffee, as my husband takes my hand, and we leave with hearts filled with good conversation and small meaningful moments all piled up into the life we are living.