He reached over and closed my hand around the bracelet. “It’s yours. I want you to have it.” Then he held up the hotel key. “Thank you again for this. I’m dying for a shower.”
I put the bracelet on and then looked up and said, “Thank you.”
After the street fair I took Pops by Sun Studios, where it all started for Johnny Cash and Elvis. I had a passerby take a picture of me sitting on the bench outside, right in front of the big neon sign. I texted the picture to Jenny with the words Me and Pops at Sun.
She texted me back, Love you both. I’m proud of you, Mia.
My last stop was the Memphis Zoo. I spent hours roaming from exhibit to exhibit until it started sprinkling. I saw people hurriedly rushing toward the exit. Looking around at the almost-empty zoo, I said aloud, “To the butterflies!” Inside the enclosure I followed one white butterfly around for several minutes until I noticed a chrysalis. With my hand over my heart, I thought back to my father’s words. It’s the change that happens in here that matters. I cried thoroughly until I allowed myself to accept the finality of death and realize that my father’s love was his legacy and it was living on in me. I knew I was changing and that I was finally feeling like the person I wanted to be.
When I landed in New York I went straight to Central Park and decided to release some of my father’s ashes in Turtle Pond. Staring across to the opposite shoreline, I whispered, “Rest in peace, Pops… and thank you.” A cool breeze caressed the still water, forming faint ripples along the surface. I had closure.
I was grateful to my father for the invaluable gift he had given me with the café, my new friends, the music, and ultimately the freedom to be whoever I wanted to be. Kell’s was a remarkable place in that it allowed people to come together and just be, without judgment. I finally saw the value in that, so I decided I wanted the café to remain what my father had made it.
We continued holding poetry nights there; my piano playing became the usual opening act. I always hoped that Will would show up and treat us to one of his sweet prayers or amazing songs, but he never did. One Thursday night after I played some familiar tunes, I decided that it was time to share some of my own words with the crowd.
Everyone cheered when I cleared my throat and hesitantly removed a piece of paper from my pocket. I looked around and absorbed the faces of my eclectic little crew of friends that I had come to know as family. Martha was smiling with peace and reverence like she was channeling my father. Jenny and Tyler looked a little shocked at my newfound courage, but eventually they too smiled, rooting me on.
Sheil wore a look that said she believed in me and it reminded me of how Will and I had looked at each other when we played music together. It’s what faith looks like and I was glad at that moment to finally be able to recognize it. Some of the other members of the poetry group looked on with encouraging smiles. Many of them were essentially strangers, but they were willing to stand up and bare their souls for one visceral moment every Thursday night in the corner of our little café, and for that I owed them.
“Hi, everyone. First of all, I want to say thank you for coming here each week and giving a little piece of yourself through poetry. This is a really beautiful tradition my father started and I want it to continue for a long, long time. Taking the lead from an amazing person I know, I’ve written a little prayer for all of us—it’s actually more like my promise to you and the café. It’s my first crack at this poetry thing, so take it easy on me…
Share Your Coffee
Share your words
Share your music
Share your love, your passion, your fears
Your hopes, and your dreams
Share your precious heart
Share your wild mind
Share your special soul with me
and I promise to
give you all of mine.
Everyone clapped. I smiled shyly and high-fived a few people on my way back to the counter. Jenny looked like she was about to cry as she wrapped her arms around me. “Ahh, Mia, you’re coming along aren’t you?” she whispered. I folded up the paper and handed it to Tyler.
“Shot in the dark, but would you pass that on to Will for me?” He had sympathy in his eyes and I wondered if he thought it was a futile gesture. It didn’t matter to me how Will reacted to the poem. I was sure he had moved on, but I still wanted to give him those words.
Martha stayed with me to close up Kell’s that night. I took my time washing the old mugs my parents had made with love all those years ago. I ran my fingers over their engraved initials as I thought about the mystical alchemy they must have shared, however brief. Martha came over and hugged me around the shoulders. “Full circle, Mia Pia.”
I looked up and gave her a warm smile. “Love you, Martha.”
“Love you, too.”
“Thank you for everything. You can go, I got this.”
“Ok, see you tomorrow.” She stared at me for a minute before turning and leaving.
After she left, my mind wandered aimlessly as I scrubbed away at the dishes. I felt a sense of peace and satisfaction. I was finally able to own the mistakes I made and although I missed Will like crazy, I was happy at the idea of him being happy, playing his music in a dive somewhere, listening to sound of his soul. I hummed a mindless tune while I thought about the next piece of music I would write. What would become the next song in the soundtrack of my life was starting to take shape when the jingling of the café door startled me. I thought Martha would have locked up, but apparently she knew something I didn’t.