"Cabin Fever and Coffee" continued...
The next day I woke up early for work and, despite the 20+ inches of snowfall over the weekend, like a true Wisconsinite, laced up my boots and hit the road. I managed to maneuver my way over ruts and drifts, all the way up to the edge of my office parking lot, only to discover not a single plow had seen it for what appeared to be the entire weekend.
Too much effort invested at this point to turn back, I parked in a neighboring lot and made the trek over to my building, all the while thinking of my neighbor’s snow bank incident the day before. I couldn’t help but sense that underlying that decision was an independent and adventurous spirit – not all too different from my own.
A couple times over coffee the day before, my guest mentioned that she lived alone, and had done so for a long time – several years. Occasionally in our conversation, her voice would scratch and fade; she’d pause and clear her throat a couple times, until it came back. “This is what happens when long periods of time go by without anyone to talk to,” she remarked. And to think, I couldn’t handle being alone in my apartment for just three days!
I settled into my desk and booted up my computer when it hit me. Dinner. I would invite her over for dinner. I’m a pretty mediocre chef, but surely I could come up with something!
When I got home from work, feeling a little nervous and fearing rejection, I taped a note to her door with a dinner invitation for the following night. Call it a soft ask, but it worked! That first note was like a tiny seed that keeps growing; nourished by weekly dinners, cups of coffee, farmers markets, weekend Wal-Mart runs, many more door notes… and feathers, lots of feathers.
Who knew friendships bloomed from blizzards?