Susan LaffertyDesert town with main street revitalized.
Colorful shops and cafes, side by side. In aged buildings freshly painted with desert hues. Sand and sage and purple.
We wander in the warren of shops connected through inner doors. And find antiques, curiosities, junk.
Collecting dust.
Simple shelter. Close quarters with eclectic decor. Spare furnishings.
She welcomes us in. And starts the fire on a small charcoal stove. Takes her sauce pan and pours in the green coffee beans, newly washed.
And so it begins.
The slow, deliberate way of an Ethiopian coffee ceremony.
Traditional hospitality. With laughter. And conversation about life.
Daily and eternal.
Today we’re honoring fathers.
And I feel the gravity of the almost. After what happened a few weeks ago.
My husband had a heart attack. As he was driving down the highway. Thankfully, I was with him. And able to get him to an emergency room quickly.
Just in time, the cardiologist said.
