One Sunny Sunday in Central Austin…

I was enjoying the drink of Red River Café’. Orange juice mixed with Sprite was an assured hangover cure. The body-aches caused by liquor from the previous nights party drifted away. A Swiss grilled cheese stuffed with avocado on wheat bread calmed the queasy stomach.

J and his girl were sipping sodas and taking drags from their cigarettes. We sat, talking a little, mostly admiring the place. Red River Café was the establishment you could take your parents to or recover from a night of partying. It was college-class. The waiters and waitresses still had multiple piercings and the menu was vegan heavy. But the vibe of the place was calm and easy. It subdued everyone and instead of hearing noisy conversation or the constant clatter that is a college town, all that was heard was your friend’s point on Freud, the Longhorns or Bush.

A parent from the middle of conservative U.S.A. would enjoy the place. Instead of reacting against offending sights, the mom or pop would shrug and think, “This is college? It isn’t as bad as I thought. Kinds nice in a way.”

So, J, she and I picked at our food. I read the sports page and sucked the ice from my drink. Nowhere to be anytime soon. Graduation was months away, papers were mostly done and the Yankees looked good on paper. J had a year left, but it would be an easy year. R was lost, but J had moved on to at least lunch with someone else.

No pressure could reach us. No stress tightened us.

These were the days in our teen years desire, youth we appreciate, long for in middle age and remember fondly upon retirement.