The In-Between Season

There’s a coffee shop near my place.

It’s small.
A few tables.
The kind of place you don’t notice unless you’re looking for it.

I went there a lot in January.

Back then it was louder.

People talking about plans.
About “starting fresh.”
About how this year would be different.

You could feel the energy.
Like everyone was at the beginning of something.

The owner was busy those days.
Moving fast.
Calling out names.
Wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his apron.

I went again this week.

It’s March now.

The room was quiet.

Not empty.
Just quiet in a normal way.

A man reading the paper.
Someone working without typing much.
The sound of milk steaming.

The owner was cleaning the counter.

I asked him how things were going.

He shrugged.

“Slow,” he said.
Then after a second, “It’s just this time of year.”

He didn’t seem upset.

Just steady.

He still opened at the same hour.
Still turned on the lights.
Still made the first coffee before anyone walked in.

Even when no one was waiting.

I sat there longer than I needed to.

Looking out the window.

The trees still look bare.
You wouldn’t guess anything is happening in them.

But I know it is.

March feels like that.

Not the excitement of a beginning.
Not the relief of an ending.

Just the middle.

The part where you keep doing what you said you would do.

Without talking about it.

Without announcing it.

Just because it’s yours.

I think a lot of people get tired here.

Nothing is wrong.
Nothing is amazing either.

It’s just… ordinary days.

And ordinary days don’t make noise.

When I left, the bell on the door rang like always.

The place was still open.

Still warm.

Still there.

I’ve been thinking about that.

About staying open in a quiet season.

About showing up when it doesn’t feel impressive.

Maybe that’s where you are right now.

Just going to work.
Answering messages.
Paying bills.
Keeping promises you made to yourself in January.

No big changes yet.

Just steady steps.

If that’s you…

I wonder what you’re still opening every morning.

I wonder what lights you’re turning on, even if no one sees it.

And I wonder if you’re giving yourself any credit for that.