The Life Lesson I Learned at a Drive-Through Starbucks
An open letter to the gentleman who pulled up behind me in the Maserati.
Dear Mr. Maserati:
Several years ago, I made up a story about you as you were idling behind me at my local Starbucks drive-through. In my head, you just ordered a venti latte, extra shot with two raw sugars and 2% foam. You own multiple companies and you are planning your next vacation to Bora Bora.
I wanted to gift the person behind me their drink because it makes me happy to do so. However, you weren’t the one I was hoping for. I decided not to pay for your order because I believed you would not appreciate it. You could say, in my giving, I had an attachment to the outcome.
I was hoping you would be someone like me — a stressed out mom. Maybe one of her kids is sick. Maybe she lives paycheck to paycheck. In my internal rambling, I saw the car you were driving and thought you didn’t meet the criteria I was looking for.
As I sat in front of you, my mind continued to re-hash prior conversations and over-analyzed melodramatic stories as to how I arrived at my current situation. I didn’t know how to stop this loop of thinking in my head.
I was a newly single mother. I was grieving. I felt isolated, scared and angry. My life force was rapidly depleting as I drowned in my own thoughts. Tension permeated my petite body. I was in the same pajamas I had been wearing for three days. That afternoon, my kids saw the same after-school snacks on the table for five days straight. “Can we get a breakfast sandwich from Starbucks for dinner?” my daughter asked. The historical me would have had a nice home-cooked meal on the table. I started to crumble under my own scrutiny.
My decision to not pay for your order left a contracted sensation in my belly which I carried around for days. It yanked on my heart. I was full of regret. Layers beneath my stress, a kind, generous, and loving person was buried alive.
I am sorry. I acted upon my assumptions. Who am I to judge and withhold a kind gesture based on the car you drive? As if that made you ineligible to receive kindness. Perhaps that wasn’t even your car. Perhaps you had just left the bedside of your child at the hospital. Perhaps your wife had just filed for divorce.
Thank you for being an unknowing catalyst who helped me clean up my act around matters of the heart. I am doing the work to drop the shield and to love courageously every day. I give cheerfully, free from attachment. I explore deeply to free the loving person within who is now above ground and thriving. May we both circle back again one day. I got you this time.
