A conversation even this introverted writer enjoyed.

My first conversation to blog about was with a petite 80 year-old Irish man, who sat next to me at Starbucks. He was entirely charming, accent and all. He wore spectacles, a hat and a jacket and sipped on a full cup of coffee. When he asked what I was working on (See? The laptop is a magnet for conversation), and I answered, “Writing a children’s book,” he told me that that was “lovely.” We then spoke about coffee, grandchildren, vacations, children’s books, retirement. His accent was light enough to understand but with just the right amount of bounce to have me believing I was in dublin. He and his wife were visiting the states for three months, getting away from the “flurries” back home.

We drank our drinks; kept quiet for a bit. But conversation struck up again. He told me his neighbor wrote children’s books, but he’d never read them. I told him I didn’t write professionally, but I’d hope to one day. We talked about clothing. How his grandchildren rode horses in the country. It was like being visited by my grandpa Brock, if he had been Irish. Sweet and personable. An advocate of coffee too.

It was then time for him to go. He stood and smiled and as he made to leave, he circled back to my dream of writing. His parting words to me? “Keep it up.” And with a twinkle in his eye, he was gone.

Type of conversation: tea with a relative. Lovely and welcomed.

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