I’m sitting in a coffee shop, reading, when in walk a bride and a groom. She’s wearing a tiara, a wedding dress covered in a suit jacket; he’s wearing a suit with a boutonnière; they’re followed by four older people and a photographer.
For me, an outsider, a witness to a mere excerpt of this time in their lives, being able to decipher what’s happening and how significant it likely is to them feels like magic. It feels like we’re connected, even though in this case it goes one way: I have an inkling, a whisper of insight, into their lives. They’re living their moment; they don’t see me.
But even with these clues about what’s going on, there is a universe of experience and context I don’t know. Who are they? How did they meet? Are the older people with them the parents who raised them? What brought them here, today? Why are they getting married? What have their lives been like? What are their plans?
All I know is one tiny little detail, and even that’s conjecture: They’re probably taking photos before their wedding.
But it feels momentous. You’re getting married; I’ve heard of marriage!
(Actually, I am married, but I don’t think I’d feel much less connected with them if I weren’t. What feels big in this moment is that they’re going through an emotionally significant life event—or at least that’s what appears to be happening—and I get to see a piece of it.)
Maybe it feels so powerful because so often we know nothing about the people whose paths we cross.
We see people, and unless we’re going through something in particular, we often assume it’s just another day for them. A day to get the kids out and active and happy in the fresh air. A day to go for a walk or a jog. A day to sit somewhere other than the office and get some work done, or unwind, or see some friends.
But sometimes it’s not just another day.
Those people sitting at the next table or booth or at the bar? The ones standing in line with their dogs, with other people, or alone?
They could have just gotten a promotion at work, a promotion they worked hard for, and they could be thrilled and relaxed that they’ve finally achieved it, or they could be disappointed despite that work because now they feel stuck in a position that will give them even more work.
They could have gotten a clean bill of health after a health scare; they could be taking their health for granted; they could have just been diagnosed with a terminal disease or with a non-terminal disease that has an easy treatment or a rough treatment. They could have just been house-bound for the past week, ill and in bed, and feeling relieved that they’re finally outside.
They could be sick and tired of the same routine.
They could be new to town or established.
They could be looking for a place to live or a job, filling out applications online. Planning a curriculum or lesson plan for a class. Meeting with a tutor or mentor. Interviewing for a job.
Everyone has a reason to want to go to a coffee shop. Even the mundane varies: to get some work done. To get away from work. To be alone. To have someone to talk to. To meet friends. To read. To people-watch. Resting while walking a dog. To get energy. To have an excuse to spend time together.
To get coffee, or tea, or chai, or hot chocolate, or a mediocre baked product. To sit in the sunshine or in the shade.
To take a break from pre-wedding photography.
Sometimes, as with this couple, there are clues.
You’ve probably noticed some, too.
I’ve seen people studying for a class. Interviewing for a job. Trying to raise VC funding (ever visited the Bay Area?). Meeting up with fellow new parents. Having co-working meet-ups. Meeting to work on a project together.
The barista here told me he’s seen people ask to use the bathroom at the same time every day, go on blind dates, break up, set up an impromptu acoustic show for a traveling band, and steal snacks from the food area.
The strangest thing I’ve ever done in a coffee shop is watch a live stream of my partner’s grandmother’s funeral. Which I’d just like to say is crazy. How is it possible that we’re in the age of live-streamed funerals? But that’s a discussion for a whole other thread. We couldn’t travel then, so I went to a coffee shop. That’s where I was when the funeral took place. In went the head phones and down flowed the fluids: tears, snot. Some laughter.
That’s what I did that day at the coffee shop. And anyone who talked to me had no way of knowing the reason for my obvious emotional turmoil.
Unless they walked behind me. Between the tears and the funeral taking up my whole screen, they might’ve figured something out.
Not everyone broadcasts their emotions like I did that day.
And yet, whether or not it’s on display, our contexts color our experience of this moment. This coffeeshop we’re both inhabiting—it doesn’t look the same to me as it does to you. And our contexts can vary so widely.
Maybe that’s why it’s such a big deal to have insight into the moment a stranger is experiencing.
It’s a reminder that the world is much bigger than we are. That there are things to look forward to and reasons to be grateful. That there’s pain and beauty. That there are other ways of being and seeing.
And that even as when we live our separate lives side by side, we can come together for a moment, we can understand that someone else is experiencing something in particular, and witnessing that something can help us see them as a fellow human, can remind us that though we are often feel separate, we are together in this crazy, beautiful existence.
This Glass Has Water 
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