This morning was awesome.  I felt really relaxed for the first time since my boys left to go on a weeklong out-of-state vacation trip with their grandparents.  I took a long walk around my neighborhood and arrived at the nearest Starbucks location at about 7 AM.  I used to hang out at that Starbucks a lot more often; a couple of years ago, when I began taking classes at the community college in pursuit of a more lucrative career, I started spending many of my evening and weekend hours studying there.  An unexpected phenomenon emerged:  I found that the atmosphere was quiet and serene enough to be conducive to my academic efforts, but since it was not tomblike and uncomfortable (like the college library), I didn't find myself becoming restless, bored, and desperate to distract myself.  My study haven wasn't expensive, either; I didn't need to spend a lot of money on beverages, because I could purchase one drink and nurse it, then get some water.  And from time to time, I could take a break from the books and chat with the people there.  In the process of busting my hump to get decent grades in my coursework, I befriended most of the baristas and many of the other regular customers.  That humble Starbucks became my refuge, my primary source of any type of social life.  It occurred to me that "my" Starbucks had become a non-alcoholic "Cheers" for me:  the friendly place where everybody knows my name.

Over the last year or so, though, my visits to Starbucks have dwindled.  And in the last few weeks, I've realized that as my time at Starbucks has declined, my overall levels of stress, exhaustion, and frustration have skyrocketed.  I can't help but think that my mental health suffers when I don't spend much time with my Starbucks pals.  So I was thrilled with the time I was able to spend at "my" Starbucks this morning.  I caught up with the latest developments in the lives of the two baristas who were working while I was there, and I was able to savor a delicious cup of Pike's Place, feeling that--at least for an hour and a half or so--all was right with my world.  I walked out of there at 8:30 AM, feeling renewed, refreshed, and rejuvenated. I strolled home with a new spring in my step. 

Bottom line:  I feel many times more ALIVE than I did just 24 hours ago, and  I can thank the awesome baristas at "my" Starbucks for helping me to get my groove back (for the time being, anyway).