Survival instinct drives a cat to seek safety in the high places far above the vague perils that lie hidden in lower levels. Abbie Hoffman, for example, often views the world from a place of safety atop the kitchen cabinets, knowing that any hullabaloo arising below can't touch him.
For those who're new to The Circular Journey, let me explain that Abbie Hoffman in this story is not one of the Chicago Seven. This Abbie, known on the street as Abracadabra, is a stylish cat, always dressed in black and white formal wear. Now, back to the story.
It must have been an instinct shared with Abbie that sent me up into the Castle Street Arts District this morning. Downtown Wilma rises several feet as it climbs away from the River Walk and up into the Arts District.
From Cafe Luna, the elevated view looks out over the shops and restaurants lining the Cape Fear River and continues out past Memorial Bridge until it reaches the cypress forest surrounding the battleship, North Carolina.
The change in elevation did nothing to lighten my mood. It was a sultry, overcast morning. The drought that plagued the countryside in recent weeks was washed from memory by the current week-long string of thunderstorms that had rushed in from the Atlantic and now refused to leave.
The city was shrouded by a sullen sky and had taken on a brooding atmosphere. The river was a silver-gray smudge. The cypress trees along the river seemed menacing.
Pointless, it seems, to try lifting the spirit on a day destined to end in frustration and anxiety. Might as well save the energy for battles giving better odds. I stepped into Cafe Luna, hoping the atmosphere inside was better than on the street. I ordered a double capp and played Jimmy Buffett on Spotify.
I was the only customer in the cafe and the barista seemed bored. She decided to take steps, the steps that generate diverting conversation. But she was not a buzzer, bless her, and lacked the skill to start something. As I was in the third half of the bipolar sketch, her attempt seemed futile.
"Out for a walk this morning," she said.
It wasn't a promising beginning. Still, we Genomes never surrender and I decided to give it my best.
"Yes," I said. I know it was weak but I was trying to avoid anxiety by warming up slowly.
"It's muggy out there, isn't it?" she said and her words stirred my anxiety to look around and ask, 'What's going on here?' For my part, I was silently praying, 'Oh no! Please, God, let it not be about the weather.'
"I try to get a good walk in every morning," I said hoping to steer the conversation in another direction than the one it had taken.
"Do you like exercise?" she said and I remember thinking at the time, 'Where the hell is this conversation going?'
But I remained confident enough to continue.
"Me?" I said. "Are you kidding? I don't know when to stop."
"Are you a runner then?" she said. And if I was a little confused before, I was astounded now. What was this young geezer thinking?
"Run?" I said. "Did you ask if I'm a runner?"
"Yeah," she said. "My exercise of choice is running. What do you do for exercise?"
"Oh," I said and I was truly surprised by her explanation. "Exercise!" I said. "That explains it then. I'm sorry I thought you asked me if I liked extra fries."
Her face took on an expression one might expect to see on someone who felt strongly and had much to say. She tried to hide her thoughts but her face betrayed her. That's all it took. Everything changed in that moment.
I couldn't hold in the laughter. I came close to slapping my knee and shouting 'Huzzah!' This hard-working tiller of roasted coffee beans may not be a buzzer but she'd started something anyway.
"I can see why you were confused," said a voice behind me.
"Oh, I didn't hear you come in," I said.
"I overheard the conversation," she said. "And I'm like you. I run too but I run like a herd of turtles is chasing me."
This comic relief appealed to the barista and she burst into laughter like a paper bag exploding.
When she caught her breath, she asked the newcomer, "So you only run when you're being chased?"
"Let me put it this way," she said. "If you see me running, you better start running too because whatever is chasing me is nothing you want to be introduced to."
We all laughed great rolling waves of laughter. It was magical. Suddenly it mattered little that a storm was brewing outside. Inside it was sunny and set fair.
"I think I love you," said the barista.
"I know," said the newcomer.
In all of the Carolinas, there is no sweeter spot than the districts of Wilma overlooking the riverfront. From my vantage point looking out on the world through the windows of Cafe Luna, I felt as safe and cozy as viewing the world with Abbie Hoffman from atop the kitchen cabinets.