Letting Go

I'll just say it: I miss the cafe.

September 17th, 2007--1 year, 6 months, and 11 days ago--the first day I ever walked in. Chelsea had just started working there, and had invited everyone to stop in that night. My strawberry smoothie was $4.04. I still have the receipt somewhere that Chelsea gave me.

The garage doors were up. The sky was a faded blue, with reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows flung across it like paint on a canvas. There were pale white jet-streams over the sun's deep golden rays. Need I say it was memorable. Our first night was on the patio, sipping smoothies and just talking.

And that's how it began.
The cafe gradually became more of a home every Monday. One night a week when we could come and let go of everything tugging on our lives, and just be us. I can say with gratitude that the cafe helped me re-kindle two of my friendships that may not have survived otherwise...

After months of Mondays, I started looking for a summer job. The cafe was the first place I thought of. I applied sometime during April or May. A year ago seems like such a long time ago, and yet like yesterday because I can remember it so vividly.
The summer arrived with so many hopes, and was gone before I could even blink. By August, school was already starting up again. My summer job as a nanny was gone, and I was now frantically looking for a solid job for the school year.

And Monday night came. And Chelsea told me about an opening at the cafe. And Sean approached me about my availability to work. And one day later a phone call. Another day later an interview. One final phone call later, and I had a job. I started on September second.

From the beginning, things weren't the same as I dreamed they'd be. It was no longer the same family I had wanted to be a part of; something had changed. It's funny, I realized that sometimes dreams really are just fantasy. The more we dream them, the more realistic they become. But sometimes when we finally get a grasp of that "dream" and can hold it in our own hands, our false logic falls away and we're left with the true reality. Nothing is perfect, no one is perfect, and I should have been more aware of that at the beginning. Even at cafe that felt like home, I had to realize that "our family" was changing. Michael and Lindsay had gone to college, new people were being hired, and the cafe itself was going through multiple changes. My perfect little world had somewhat collapsed. I was still very excited to work there. I did feel very welcome, and for the first time in I think five years Chelsea and Crystal and I were hanging out like "the old days" and almost getting to know each other all over again. I was still a part of a close knit family, it just wasn't the one I expected.

For a while it seemed like things were continually getting better. I had finally gotten the hang of everything, and things were gradually becoming more comfortable. I remember nearly every Tuesday night with Chelsea, from the nights we worked our butts off, to the night we mopped and sang to Taylor Swift. I can't forget my random chats with Kerry, Darlene, Marilyn, Richard, and Sean. Or the first day I opened the cafe by myself over winter break and had to call Michael and wake him up so he could tell me how to turn on the computer. And then again when I couldn't unlock the door. I remember the day I worked from 10 to 8 nonstop, the days I worked off the clock just to be with Crystal and Chelsea. I remember Crystal making chocolate strawberry smoothies, or when Chelsea and I thought we heard a mouse in the closet. I remember trying to make Anthony's birthday cookie, the "safari" Chelsea and I took with Alise, the one open mic night that I worked with Ian and Chelsea, the Thursday night when EVERYTHING WENT WRONG. Thousands of memories, and I have to stop here.

There's a fine line between fond memories and not letting go of the past. And it's a narrow line. It's extremely hard to miss such a place. When you have so many memories, but you want to forget and get on with life. I can't emphasize enough how hard it is. Sometimes I really don't want to miss it.

The last couple months before the cafe closed, I felt the downhill slide. I remember sitting down with Michael in the empty cafe and talking about everything that was happening. It was a helpless and frustrating feeling, not being able to control any of it. And a great feeling of sadness and anger at all of the unpredictable changes. Chelsea was gone. And Ian was gone. We began closing at two everyday, and I rarely saw Crystal anymore. I don't know if alone is what I felt, but I no longer felt like I belonged. Crystal, Chelsea, Ian, Michael. They were supposed to be there. Not just me. I didn't belong there without them. And from there, I just felt like things gradually fell apart. Near the end, no one there was themselves. And I suppose rightly so, because it's never a happy occasion when any business closes. But we all dream of happily-ever-afters.

I really really don't want to miss the cafe sometimes, but I find myself wanting my family back, minus the memories of how things fell apart.

I just can't explain it.