She is only sixteen, working her first job as a barista on San Juan Island. The weather is mostly beautiful and she is happy. Maybe it’s a caffiene-enabled happiness, but it’s not manufactured, it’s genuine. Not too perky and not too solicitous or righteous. Part of me is looking for reasons to discount this. She’s only had four customers in the last hour. Surely if she was busy, she’d be have a more somber or aggravated demeanor. She surely doesn’t know yet, ….. the challenges and suffering that life will bring. <...Take a sip of tea and breathe….> And I stop that voice from talking and I let the barista be happy. After all, I am reading essays by a Buddhist nun, who is wise, and I think for a minute the nun would be pleased that I let go of the need to diminish the happiness of a complete stranger who is yet unleashed in this world. Then I remember the nun is Buddhist, so she won’t attach any judgment or feelings to my actions. ..and I go back to the barista. It’s actually likely she knows more of the world than I credit her, although she is still an innocent. I certainly knew challenges and suffering in the world at that age, and tended to carry the weight of it on my shoulders. This one, the barista, isn’t doing that. She made friends with the last four people who came up, including me. Her family travels to the mainland every three weeks to buy groceries because prices are too high here on the island. There are two grocery stores and they are owned by the same person, and she doesn’t understand the point of that. She wishes they had a Trader Joe’s. The twelve year old from room 233 ordered a “decaf” London Fog for his mom who was still sleeping. She didn’t know what that was, but they sorted it out. His sister brought the tea to his mom and he stayed and ate his bagel with the barista. They made fast friends. I finished my tea and wished that we could all work and live with the same weightlessness she possessed today. … but for always. ... when there is more than four customers an hour …. when the new friend at the bar isn’t an easygoing twelve year old. Before and after all suffering and challenges and before, in the midst, and after joy. Weightlessness. ......Go toward the light, ya’ll.