The generations

I sat in a cafe today and watched two older ladies walk in. One of them gliding by on her wheelchair and parking expertly by a big communal table. The other lady dressed in creams and linens and sweet simple jewellery. They spent the better part of half an hour exchanging these wonderous scraps of fabric.

A bright yellow for one and a black and white baroque for the other. The lady in linen brought with her the quilt she had been making. Full of squares and patterns and they started talking about stitching and design. Just wholly caught up in their brightly coloured fabric-fueled world.

I can’t hear them now but I wonder what they are talking about.

Next came two younger girls. Dressed like the times. Trendy and coquette. Black chunky boots, little dresses, bows in their hair, and gauzy fabrics. Their quick chattering sounded like little birds. Now and then they would burst into a small fit of giggles. So caught up in their own stories, they didn’t hear the barista call their name. This lack of hearing only prompted more giggles as they walked away, coffee in hand.

They stood behind these older ladies and it looked like the picture of the generations. It looked like you could see the threads of life linking both sides. The younger ladies. On trend. Busy. grabbing takeaways because it was time to seize the day and the older women, settled, seated and catching up over small cups of coffee and a lifetime of stories between the last time they met up. What a picture they made.