For the last week or so, I've been getting phone calls and emails from concerned friends, wondering how I was taking the news. My favorite cafe closed abruptly and unexpectedly on New Year's Day, which I think is a craptastic way to begin 2009. This is the place that invented a special decaf coffee drink when I was pregnant with Josie, but only charged me the price of a regular cup of coffee. The place where they would bring me shortbread hot from the oven. It's where I got to know a group of regulars who were unfailingly kind, and friendly, and interested in my work. Kate, who worked the counter, loaned me her daughters' books for the girls to read and dispensed advice both sound and compassionate. Susie, the owner, knew everyone and everything about our little town, and would give me a much-needed swift kick in the pants when I wasn't making much progress on my book.
Before I had Josie, I was there three or four days a week, but I wasn't able to get there as much after that -- juggling all our schedules just made it impractical. And now I won't get to go again -- no more warm raspberry-chocolate chip muffins for me or fluffernutter sandwiches for the girls. I know the economy has a lot to do with this, and the number of drive-through Starbucks in the vicinity (three within a five-minute drive) certainly doesn't help, but this is the third locally-owned cafe to close in the last few months, and it saddens me, because I'm not sure how we can maintain a sense of community without places like this.
And frankly, I miss my mug.
