I don’t even drink coffee, but I did a double take when I walked past the white paper sign on the nearby storefront door the other day

Coming soon!

As if the exclamation point shaved off a few days from their build-out schedule and added reasons for excitement.

A local bru haus (they don’t just call them cafés anymore) was going to be opening in my neighborhood.

The smaller print declared that the beans themselves were going to be roasted in my very zip code (as if preparing beans in Chicago’s Albany Park stood for superior flavor and was a great selling point).

Along a major avenue and bus route and only blocks away from a commuter train station, the hope would be that they would grow a loyal following.

Of course, they would be set up for WIFI and would probably sell a limited selection of pastries. Maybe their sweets would come from their own ovens. Or, more likely, they’d come from another small business.

Baked with the best organic ingredients that could be found, their blondies or cinnamon crumble topped cakes would be products of someone else’s entrepreneurial dream.

I couldn’t see beyond the brown kraft paper covering the insides of the windows facing the street, but my imagination started filling in the details of what the place might look like.

The place would be some shade of yellow, like having caffeinated walls. I’d expect them to have funky, brightly painted wooden chairs. I fondly remembered Urbus Orbus, back in the day, when I was in my twenties and drank coffee.

I’d hang out there with my friend Lin for hours, sipping Arabica and playing board games, which were stashed away on a small bookcase that was probably pulled from a nearby alley before scavengers (i.e. garbage-pickers) made a last round.

We’d play Scrabble or Clue (okay, the set was missing a few pieces). We’d drink from endless over-sized ceramic cups Wabi Sabi style. Somehow the crockery was extra endearing because they were irregular or imperfect.

Today’s typical bru haus or café patrons probably have all the games they could think of on their smart phone apps. And paper GO cups might be their standard for serving up their special blend. Still, I was excited…

• About something new coming to my neighborhood.

• About having a place to meet someone at short notice nearby without feeling compelled to make my bed or clean my bathroom.

• About the possibility of community forming around the place, or at least spawning an ensemble of regulars that might hang out there as if occupying a second home.

I think I’m excited at the prospects of someone hanging out their shingle and furnishing a new storefront — to make a place ready for business. It represents a lot of hard work. More importantly, it tells me that someone has taken a key step in making their dream REAL.

It’s great to see someone making tangible something that started out as an idea in their head.

I wish that for myself. I take inspiration from all range of transformations, of great and small reveals. A new small business owner might cover the windows while a fresh purpose and identity is being formed on the inside.

All number of unforeseen events and complications might delay the grand opening.

Still, seeing a COMING SOON! sign is no small thing.