Blueberry Rhubarb Pie

As I sit alone with my enormous slice of pie, I feel their gaze on me.

It must feel so unfair that I am alone at this three-person table while they, three friends, must wait for their turn to sit. But it's lunch time and it's busy. I just got lucky and arrived before the rush. Which seems fair to me.

I feel their energy. They wonder how long I'll be. I fight the urge to eat quickly. I am learning to eat mindfully after all. But the distraction of their mild impatience affects me. Unspoken pressure weighting heavily on every bite.

I repeat to myself that I have the right to be here just as much as they do. I have the right to take my time. Even though they outnumber me. I casually stare at the fresh flower someone lovingly placed on my table. A distraction.

I resist the urge to look busy on my phone. But it seems strange nowadays to be a woman alone, slowly eating, just being. Not reading, not talking, just eating and looking around. Not multi-tasking. Not socializing. Just being comfortable with oneself.

I must be a weird sight. They might not understand what I'm trying to accomplish. Or, rather, what I am accomplishing... remembering the advice of a Mayan shaman who told me to stop trying and to just do.

I keep my slow pace. And fight other intrusive thoughts. Thoughts that suggest I could just stop and take the rest of the pie to go. Thoughts that remind me I could have chosen the slightly smaller table and could have potentially avoided this uneasy feeling.

I glance around, anxious for the three women to finally get a table. Another table. Away from mine.

Some people leave. The three friends ask for the extra chairs around me, as if they were mine. "Of course" I say, awkwardly. Trying to sound friendly yet unashamed and confident.

More people leave. The friends change table for the bigger one and return the chairs. But then more people arrive and another of my chairs is moved away again. And another. Then the owner, ever so kindly, adds a random stool, "in case someone would like to sit with me". I watch the whirlwind of activity, quietly, from what now seems to be an oversized table. Matching my oversized slice of pie. My never-ending delicious pie.

The pressure to leave still lingers. I give in and start writing this note in my phone. My identity suddenly morphs from the woman alone eating too slowly and weirdly, into the younger woman in the cafe who is glued to her phone. How typical. But they don't know why I'm staring at my screen...

I look at my plate. Almost done. Relief. Albeit it wasn't achieved so mindfully.

I have grown so much yet always keep that uncomfortable, insecure and introverted little girl inside. She will never leave. And I can never forget her. I can only respect her. And fight her a little too. Because she doesn't run the show anymore.

I grab my bag and stand tall. Looking down at the table now, it seems a bit small to fit three people comfortably. I walk confidently out of the café, into the bright sun of the afternoon. Into my next soul adventure.