A Japanese woman came into the coffee shop the afternoon before next year. She was wearing a shiny gray rain hat. With napkins she polished the family table and her own chair almost endlessly. She bought and brought her son coffee shop eggs, and shared a homemade, out of her bag, thick, steamy drink with the man, perhaps her husband, though she wore no wedding ring.
The coffee shop on the afternoon before next year was filled with happy and grumpy people. Many of the men had beards.
As I was preparing to leave, one of my favorite baristas, who I almost never see, appeared behind the counter. Holly. Also, while preparing to leave, the Japanese woman with the shiny gray rain hat and no wedding ring, stood and walked directly to my table.
“Don’t prepare the room,” she said to me.
I went with my book and pencil and glasses and said “Happy New Year” to China and Isiah and Holly, and I left.
from a mountain bench 
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