Just A Girl

Early mornings, forgotten lunches, sore feet from fourteen hour days in gorgeous shoes.

January has been a beast.

I've run from place to place and it was after a planned presentation that I finally took a deep breath on Friday and pushed my ergonomically correct chair away from a boardroom table. I could feel my shoulders fall from my ears and someone mentioned Starbucks. A sheet of paper was pulled from the drawer of my printer and a list of every size and type of coffee was quickly presented to Raymond who knows of my affinity for The Barista.

A few minutes later a tall latte was plopped on my desk, "There's a love letter on your cup."

I looked up, "Huh?"

"The Barista knew it was your drink so she said to make sure you saw her love letter."

I pulled the sleeve from the cup and saw her oversized handwriting, some smiley faces and the hope that I was having a good day. I smiled. My new partner was aghast.

"Are you kidding me? She writes you notes on your cup?"

Raymond waved him off, "You don't understand. They don't have a friendship. They have a relationship."

I could hear sarcasm bouncing from the walls. My new partner was already questioning my sanity as I interrupted him one day when I saw her kiss a boy who had visited her one morning, "Oh my God, look!"

"You have problems."

"Yay, she's happy. Look how smiley she is."

"Oh my God."

An hour later I also bounced from the wall, grabbed my overstuffed purse and click clacked toward the elevator bay. It was Friday, yes, but I had to run home to get ready for dinner with a client. I stopped by Starbucks on the way out to grab a bottle of water and thank My Barista for the latte well wishes.

We chatted, joked and suddenly I stood there staring at my empty wallet, "Um. Raymond kept my cards. I have no money." My head jerked up from my wallet, "I'll be right back!"

I sat the bottle of water to the side and began a mad dash back to the elevators when I heard a voice call out, "Wait!" I turned to find a very tall man handing My Barista dollar bills.

"It is my good deed for the day."

"No! You don't have to do that! I'll go get some money."

The Barista smiled, her hand over the register, taking the cash.

"Nonsense. It's a bottle of water. Have a great weekend."

I wished my new friend well and smiled as I wished all the ladies behind the counter a good weekend. I turned toward the doors and wallowed in my Friday human moments; notes on a cup, a stranger's kindness. I had forgotten all about the kindness between people who don't want to see your marketing plan, who don't care about your opinion on important financial and political matters and who want nothing more from you than a smile.

I'd forgotten all about those things since January 4th when I made my way into the office and remembered them all again as My Barista whispered, "Thanks for doing that. She's such a sweetheart" to my benefactor.

I'm a sweetheart to someone.

Not just a girl in click clacky shoes with a Blackberry attached to her palm. Not just a girl who can't remember what's next on her calendar because there is too much. Not just a girl with a plan and a stomach ache.

Not just a girl at all.