This is my Wednesday post, an excerpt from my upcoming book, Coffee and Me.
The car needed servicing today, and with that came options. The Mazda dealership is close enough to home that I can walk to Mañana or Tanner's while I wait.
I decided on Tanner's. An OG spot. Back when I worked for a virtual school, I used to go there to work from home. Although, considering Tanner's is not my home, I suppose "remote working location" is more accurate.
The walk took me past a Starbucks that had closed.
It is still a little shocking to see a closed Starbucks, even though it happens. This one had been an easy stop for years. I could order through the app, pick up my coffee, and head toward the freeway. Often, an old friend would be there having his early-morning spiritual time. I could stop and chat with him for a moment before heading to work.
Now the Starbucks is gone, and so are those opportunities. Those little encounters that fit so easily into a morning routine.
I kept walking.
Next door to Tanner's used to be a comic book shop. The shop moved, and now the space sits empty. Next to that was a place that sold fish and aquariums. That's gone, too. A vision center has taken its place.
But Tanner's remains.
Outside is the wooden cutout of Poseidon holding a surfboard. Inside, it looks the same. I ordered coffee and a piece of carrot cake.
There are several things I appreciate about Tanner's: the water dispenser, the Wi-Fi, and the drain where you can pour out a little coffee to make room for cream and sugar.
That last one deserves recognition.
Some places fill your cup to the top, provide a trash can, and then ask you not to pour coffee into it. But we do anyway. We need room for the cream.
People need more drains like Tanner's.
The dealership had told me two hours, so I got comfortable. I pulled out my journal and spent some time researching why God was angry with David for counting the fighting men. Meanwhile, my iPad was connected to the Wi-Fi, and I had the Indiana–Ohio State game streaming through my Bluetooth headphones.
Coffee. Carrot cake. Journaling. Biblical questions. College football.
Technology is a wonderful thing.
Still, part of me wondered whether somebody was going to admonish me for streaming a football game on the coffee shop's Wi-Fi. Apparently, even while sitting quietly with a purchased coffee and carrot cake, I carry an expectation that I might get in trouble.
Then my phone buzzed.
The car was ready.
An hour early.
I had settled in for a two-hour visit, and now I had to leave. I wasn't even finished with my coffee.
I was finished with the carrot cake.
So I packed up the journal, tossed my trash, put the iPad and headphones into my backpack, and headed back to the dealership. Past the empty storefronts. Past the closed Starbucks. Past the places where I had made memories without realizing I was making them.
There was so much abundance in that morning. I had somewhere familiar to sit, something good to eat, time to think, and a car ready sooner than expected.
There was also sadness.
Mine was small compared with what those closures might have meant for the people who worked there. I missed a convenient coffee stop and a few familiar shops. Other people may have lost jobs, routines, or businesses they had spent years building.
Where are the people who used to be inside those places?
Where do they work now?
I kept walking, grateful that Tanner's was still there and wondering about the people whose familiar places were gone.
Later, on the walk home, I would dictate this blog post into my phone, generate an image, and upload it to my blog. Another ordinary convenience that would once have seemed remarkable.
So there we have it. The car got serviced. I had coffee and carrot cake. I revisited an old spot and walked past a few places I can no longer visit.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I found something to write about.
What familiar place of yours is still standing?
Here, I made this. My gift to you, for taking the time to read.