A little music for our table.
Press play, lovely. I’ve saved you a seat—and the tea is still warm. ♡
Listen on YouTube · Nineteen minutes of music for an open notebook.
Bunny’s café log
In my cup · Maple cinnamon rooibos
On my plate · A little pear tart
On the speakers · The Little Things That Held Me
On my page · A seat someone saved
The fancy cup, please
I chose the floral china today. The cup with the little gold edge that makes me sit up a bit straighter for approximately one sip. Then I’m back to leaning over my notebook.
There’s maple cinnamon rooibos in it, and a pear tart beside it. I was going to save the tart until I’d written something. There is already a small corner missing. We can call that a beginning.
The leaves outside keep catching the light. Inside, the next song has started so softly I almost missed the change. Your notebook will fit here, just beside mine. Mind the crumbs.
A seat someone saved
Thanksgiving always makes me want to write a very beautiful list. The sort with tidy handwriting and enough room between every line. Today, though, I keep thinking about a chair.
I’d arrived late, with cold paws and that awkward feeling of not knowing where to put myself. Before I could hover near the doorway for too long, someone moved their bag and said, “I saved you a seat.”
That was all. No grand speech. A chair pulled out a little, a cup nudged over to make room. I remember how quickly my shoulders dropped.
So I’m drawing that instead. Two chairs, the edge of a table, the little space waiting for me. One chair currently has a rather ambitious leg. It can stay.
I tucked a little sticker onto the other page. There was a blank corner, and I have never been very good at leaving those alone.
On the facing page, I’ve written “A seat someone saved,” with a little heart underneath. Just a few words, but they bring the whole afternoon back.
A little space on your page
What small kindness has stayed with you, and what detail brings it back?
Mine is the chair and those five words. Yours might be a cup made just how you like it, a message at the right moment, or someone waiting while you caught up.
There’s room for a sentence, a sketch, or the words you wish you’d said back. A quiet little memory is plenty.
I’m leaving this page open while the music plays. There’s still some tea, and I’d like to give that chair another look. Gratitude journaling can be as small as this, I think: remembering the moment someone made an ordinary day feel gentler.
If Thanksgiving brings you here, I’m glad. If it’s an entirely ordinary afternoon, I’m glad of that, too. The seat is still yours.
And if a little piece of your page wants company, you can leave a note for the table below. The rest can stay between you and your notebook. ♡
Another afternoon at our table: A Seat by the Window — tea, quiet guitar, and small things worth keeping.
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