I haven’t felt it yet this year.  The inspiration boiling in my blood.  So I came to this spot.  It seems to mean something.  I started my blog here.  I get my coffee here.

It is here that I sit.  I was here with my father and my mother and my young sister.  Here is where my father ordered coffee.  As we waited in the stuffed commercialized coffee shop with it’s pumpkin spice latte’s and its chestnut fucking macadamia bullshit.  We heard the barista call out “Alvin”.  We didn’t react as Alvin is a common name.  When we realized that the barista had written “Alvin” on my fathers coffee instead of Albert we were stunned.  Alvin is the name of my fathers deceased brother.  It has been about two years since his passing.  We still can’t stomach it.  So when we saw Alvin on my fathers cup we didn’t see it as a mistake on the part of the employee (even though mistakes at this particular location were frequent).  We saw it as a sign from our late Uncle Alvin.  A sign that he saw us and he was watching over us.  How fitting a moment for us as a family.  To have him there with us at the coffee shop on the corner.  If I had to guess on it, I think it made him happy to see us as a family down in LA.  Just us together we didn’t need anything else.  I think his appreciation of the moment gave him the motivation to make his presence known.  This moment also shows me how my family has never lost faith.  Through the struggles and the losses, the ups and downs of life.  We are still able to see his signs and to feel things that aren’t necessarily tangible.  So here I sit, in the same chair my father was, when he sat next to his brother in the afterlife.  His faith was restored a little bit that day.  I could tell he was questioning it.  This is the chair I sit in to try and find my inspiration.