Waiting for the pet store to open this morning, I stopped in at the coffee shop next door. It’s an old building even though it’s only been a coffee shop for a few years, and so the shop has the look of a place that’s been around for years. Old linoleum floors, chipped paint on the walls, a little on the shabby side–nothing shiny, nothing new. It’s small but usually busy, people sitting alone or in pairs, reading the newspaper, doing crossword puzzles, talking quietly.
I found myself thinking how much I liked it. Not just the coffee (which is very good), but the whole vibe of the place. I think I especially liked the fact that it didn’t seem all that shiny or new. It seemed very much like a part of the neighborhood. A continuation of its history, even if the place itself hasn’t been around all that long.
More and more I like older things. We live in an old house, we just bought an old piano. Old can be good. Even when it’s shabby. Maybe I just have more of a history myself, so I appreciate it in everything around me.