January 25, 2022

I turned to Theresa and said, “Shall I do it?” and she said, “Sure!”, so I grabbed my bag and jumped out of the car to run across traffic seconds before the light turned green. I was headed for The Matador Coffee Roasting Company in Flagstaff, Arizona. You see, up until that point in our trip, Theresa did not know about my affection for local coffee shops, until I spontaneously left her driving in a town at an intersection she’s never seen before. Yet, we both somehow instinctively knew she’d find her way back to me.

Leading up to this moment, we had been driving west across I-40 in Arizona after two nights in Holbrook to visit the Petrified Forest National Park and were headed for Sedona. Like all great road trips, we made sure to know which sights were along the way that we wanted to see, but also built in time for random, spur of the moment stops. One such planned stop was Walnut Canyon National Monument, just outside Flagstaff, Arizona. Theresa had previously visited this monument and, since we had her fluffy golden doodle Dizzy with us, she chose to walk the Rim Trail, while sending me off down the 473 steps to see the over 700-year old cliff dwellings by the Hopi people via the Island Trail. With the rim at nearly 7,000 ft. of elevation, I knew I’d be out of breath on my return trip, as an East Coast dweller. However, the descent and walk along the cliffs was just as breath-taking. There were no ropes and the path was no wider than a standard sidewalk. The edges of the cliffs were steep and, looking across the canyon, the pueblo cliff dwellings of the Hopi appears in an apartment-like fashion. I was able to peer into a number of dwellings along my walk, but I did not happen to see any of the petroglyphs along my hike. The ceilings could not have been more than 4.5 feet high. The rooms were possibly 7 ft. x 10 ft. and were built directly into the side of the rocky cliff. I can’t imagine a midnight bathroom break, but of course one would quickly learn their surroundings in an environment like that. The cliffs provided protection and there was a stream at the bottom of the canyon for water, which the women and children were responsible for fetching. The entryways to each pueblo were interesting; they had a hole above the door. The Hopi would hang an animal skin as a door, leaving just a crack at the bottom for air to enter, circulate around the fire that was in the interior center of the room and exit via the hole above the door. I can’t imagine what it took to figure that out, but that must have been THE greatest invention of the time when it was discovered. I made sure to pause and take in the awe-inspiring silence of the canyon and the fresh, crisp air, shutting off my non-stop stream of consciousness just for a few moments. I thought it must have been both a peaceful place to live, but quite possibly also a bustling apartment lifestyle with multiple families nearby, and I wondered if they shouted to each other or somehow walked a long distance around the canyon just the send a message that dinner was ready.

Leaving Walnut Canyon, I assured Theresa that my insistence on “passing through” Flagstaff was just to see the main downtown drag and then be on our way to Sedona. I had no intentions of making her find me, like hide and go seek. Each time I visit a new city or town that seems to have the amenities I enjoy (outdoor recreation, good food, enough of a population to have plenty of friends, and, of course, a few good coffee shops), I envision whether it’s a place I could live. While I rarely have intentions of moving, I still fantasize about all the multiple ways I could be living my life. We pulled up to a stoplight at the intersection of South Milton Road and West Clay Avenue and I looked to my right, commenting on how cute this coffee shop was that was clearly an old gas station with the old shop doors opened and painted in a rad matte black with glass windows. Even the old gas pump station was a tiny coffee shack for grab and go. The Matador Coffee Roasting Company was founded in 2005 by a father and son duo, but I did not meet them and did not even know I was starting this blog when I ran in for hot java that day. The teal colorings with black, white and chrome accents tugged at my heart. Those closest to me know just how much I love teal and black. We had already been sitting at the red light a good minute, but I told Theresa I wanted to go in. I hemmed and hawed about it just long enough to say I was going, grab my purse, and dash across traffic before the green light. Once inside, it dawned on me that Theresa probably had not noticed the name of the shop as traffic told her to go. I ordered her a chai and myself a latte. I opened my purse and there was no wallet. Oh. No. Awkward moment. Panic. A sheepish smile. My wallet was in my hiking pack in the trunk of Theresa’s car. I said, “Ah, oops, I have to wait for my friend to get back to get my wallet.” The other customers who came in weren’t sure why I was fumbling around so much, but no one seemed too bothered. While I waited awkwardly, I gazed into their seating area at the checkered floor and chrome accents with more teal as the anchoring color. I wanted to just Be there for a while. There were a number of homemade pastries on display, but I did not buy any. Theresa quickly made her way to the shop and I laughed, explaining what had happened and us discovering neither of us knew where exactly we were for her to find me again. My latte was delicious and she enjoyed her chai, and we delighted in our random excursion as we headed for Sedona.