Princess Coffee Spill

I can be royalty and imperfect, and that’s okay.

I had a macchiato puddle on my arm. In my excitement leaving the coffee shop, and on finding a bench in the sun, I dropped my cell phone and my caffe macchiato. It spilled all over my arm, dress, purse and the sidewalk.

“Oh!” the two ladies visiting each other on the bench nearby me exclaimed.

I felt the heat of embarrassment.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” I managed to say. I felt close to tears. My tiny espresso was all over me. The cup was almost empty. I was raw from feeling so lonely.

I sat down on the sunny bench and pulled out the only napkin in my now coffee soaked pink cross body purse. The napkin itself was pathetic. It was mascara stained, lipstick stained and tear soaked from my crying/praying session in the adoration chapel minutes ago.

I unfurled the crinkly balled mess and wiped the dark creamy puddle off my arm. For some reason, it hadn’t dripped off but had collected on my skin, as if I had spent two weeks on a beach in Costa Rica.

After deciding I had felt sorry for myself long enough, I tried to see the humour in it. I wanted to laugh out loud but I didn’t want to look more like a weirdo.

So, I walked home to get out of my coffee stained blue dress. After changing and eating my delicious deli sandwich, I felt better. I even came up with a nickname for my coffee accident, “Princess coffee spill.”

This made me giggle and since I was home alone, I laughed freely. I wasn’t worried about looking normal. It’s good not to take my dear self so seriously. And I liked the nickname. I can be royalty and imperfect and that’s okay.


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