Ten Years of Good Mornings

Lyrics

[Intro]
Ten years in a warehouse.
Ten years at the same door code.
A toaster that broke and came back.

[Verse 1]
She opened it after twenty years of board meetings —
after one too many quarters
spent explaining the obvious to a slide.
Six ninety-one John Wesley Dobbs,
a building the cotton left behind,
a corridor the rails used to run beneath.
She painted one wall. Left the rest.
Poured coffee by eight.

[Chorus]
Ten years of good mornings.
Ten years of holding the elevator.
Ten years of someone's husband
dropping off a forgotten laptop.
We are not a family.
We are a room that keeps its lights on
and its door unlocked by day.
That is family enough.

[Verse 2]
A woman became a lawyer at desk twenty-three.
A man became a father at desk seven.
A third person left us for San Francisco
and came back nine months later
because the cold brew is better here
— local, and free.

[Bridge]
The handy ma'am next door knows our door code.
She comes over when her drill battery dies.
We charge it. She brings cookies the next day.
This is how trade worked
before someone called it trade.

[Chorus]
Ten years of good mornings.
Ten years of warmth
that does not photograph well
and does not need to.
Ten years of a building on Dobbs
learning her name back.

[Outro]
She's lived intown longer than most of us have been in Atlanta.
Knew where the bakery was before it was a bakery.
The door opens at eight. Closes at seven.
Opens at eight tomorrow.
Three more small specific things
will happen today
that no one will post anywhere.
That is how she counts ten years.