What does a coffee shop mean to you? Is it a cozy enclave where you hunker down with a book or hunch over your work laptop for a few hours? A hub of chatter you head to when it gets too silent in the confines of your room? A refuge from rough weather?
To me, it’s all of those things and more. I love the dual role it plays in my life: on the one hand, it’s a remedy for my loneliness, a place where I can surround myself with people and conversation; on the other hand, it provides the solitude I’m craving. With a latte, a muffin, and some soft music in the background, I can relax here for hours.
The 4th of July holiday weekend has brought an onslaught of rain. It’s disappointing, yes, but it’s also the perfect opportunity for me to haul my journal and my latest reads to Café on the Common in Waltham. If you’ve never been in the Moody Street vicinity before, I would say that this is absolutely one of the most underrated gems in the area. I started coming here relatively frequently in early May, when I needed to escape my bustling house near the Brandeis University campus and distract myself from the nerve-wracking process of applying to jobs. I can say with joy and satisfaction that coming here has helped me heal from the difficulties of the past year; I’ve been able to escape the inclination to stay in bed for most of the day (which really hit me hard during the lockdown) and I’ve also found solace in the fact that no matter what upheaval rocks my life as I leave my college community behind transition into the working world, the Café will ways be here with its comforting music and conversation.
Here are just a few things I love about my outings to Café on the Common:
My usual table. Of course others sit here, but I love that this marble-topped table is tucked away in the corner, free of occupants, whenever I arrive. It’s close to the Café’s front windows, offering a view of Waltham’s central park and passerby on the street. In today’s case, with the rain, it’s offering a view of water splashing the sidewalks and flustered pedestrians toddling by with damp hair tucked half-heartedly under the hoods of rain jackets. Still, there’s nothing less charming about this.
The soundtrack. I’m talking about two soundtracks here: there’s the soft background music that sweeps through the Café to lend ease to business meetings and pep to quiet journaling sessions; and there are the conversations that spring up from every corner. As I’m sitting here today, soft jazz sweeps in my direction and mingles with the shy introductions taking place between a couple on a first date sitting next to me. I’m a fan of smooth jazz, but I’m an even bigger fan of the fact that this is a place where people come to get better acquainted with each other. It’s public enough for a casual hangout and private enough for a deep dive into someone else’s life. Some find the merging of chatter and background music to be distracting, but I find it invigorating.
The baristas. They’re truly fantastic—they learn the names of regular customers within a matter of days, and I know that from experience. Watching their interactions with customers they know well brings a massive smile to my face. Just now, an older man perched behind me strikes up a conversation with the current barista about her Venice Beach t-shirt—“that was one of the wildest trips of my life,” he exclaims—and last week, I watched with delight as another one of the baristas raced to get his customer “Kathy” a glass of water after she complained loudly about her walk in the heat. Kathy went on to update him on her youngest son’s college plans while he was getting her iced coffee ready to go, and I thought to myself that there are few things more enduring than the rapport between a barista and the people who visit them for that morning/afternoon brew.
The decorations. There are the vintage images in heavy wooden frames that you might expect to find in any coffee shop, like sketches of different coffee drinks and black-and-white photos of Waltham back in the day. There are also plants that lend the Café an earthy feel, like a giant potted fern right next to the table I always sit at and a set of resilient succulents occupying a space on the windowsill. One of the baristas leaned over my table briefly to water them; it seems like a pretty good gig to be able to cultivate plants AND to be able to cultivate strong relationships with customers. The large chalkboard menu hovering over the counter, with drinks and lunch items labeled in colorful handwriting, is a homey type of decoration in and of itself.
The rebound. In the wake of a world-stopping pandemic, Café on the Common is reemerging as a haven for the hardworking, the homebodies, the couples, the avid conversationalists, and everyone in between. I’m grateful to have discovered this place between the long-awaited reopening of Massachusetts and my move out of Waltham. As I pack up the remnants of my college life in cardboard boxes is anticipation of my transition, I’ll be returning to Café on the Common frequently for a break or two.
My next stop is the Somerville/Cambridge area, and I’ll certainly be taking coffee shop recommendations!
