She had waited for a day in which she would go out in the middle of a winter afternoon to a café for hot coffee.
R and I sat in a corner near the window so she could look outside. The round, wooden table was pushed against the window and was decorated with a small flower crammed into a tiny jar. A woman sat next to us; she was alone with her work papers and a bowl of tomato soup. Two women sat by the fake fire place and laughed loudly between their conversations.
Before R came to the U.S., she lived a transitory life in her country. She put everything on hold because her heart belonged to America and her mind to a green, plastic card. She contented herself with temporary relationships and decisions. Everything was on hold including her dream wedding ring and her dream house with the big family photo. It was a life on hold.
Today though, R sat in front of me and smiled, holding her hot cup of French Coffee. While she held the cup in her hands, she watched the snow fall behind the glass window. The coffee and the snow were two permanent things she knew she could hold on to forever.