A warm, empty mug

My favorite coffee shop closed. It's not the first time this has happened to me...

Only a few years ago I was recovering from the loss of my first. Each, a piece of my heart gone, yet now a heart of stone... conditioned...unstoppable. So life grinds on, I sit perched in a less favorite coffee shop.

I think about them... how they felt... about holding on... they parade past my minds eye. Moments we shared...smiles we gave...tears we cried...pouting...jabs and backfists...savage words and thoughtless actions...comfort.

Analyzing, though I shouldn't, after these years I realize I needed them to close. To walk the gauntlet cradling a cup in fear of splashing those you love is to live in fear. Comfort and convenience are not life. Sometimes, the obtuse are more enlightened than the quick. I wouldn't trade where I am for ten of where I was.

The SugarCube is a loss. A loss for her captains...I was priveledged to know them. A good crew was lost. Of course, for the inmates of an asylum afloat in a sea of unrelenting storm...a loss. I have remarked my aquantainces there are largely insane, but I've always been stark raving mad, that's why I love the sea...