Hello Again

In case you're wondering, the above title is in reference to the Neil Diamond song. If I've failed to disclose this information before, I listened to a lot of Neil Diamond in college. Especially in the mornings, waiting for the coffee to brew. I feel like this particular Neil Diamond song is quite apt for this occasion (For those of you who don't know it, do yourself a favor).

A lot of time has lapsed since I last shared with you. In the meantime, we have received plenty of word from you. Thank you for that. During our silence Evan and I have been counting our blessings. The outcry of support in your comments and emails has been so humbling. I appreciate the insights you have on writing, and the stories you've shared. We are grateful that you considered our cafe a part of your family. We miss being there, and think of it (and you) every day. Just so you know, it made me incredibly joyful to tell my grandfather about this blog and about all of you.

Before arriving in Massachusetts, we had yet to speak to one another about the cafe's closure. While he had been informed of the news by mother, he was waiting to discuss the matter with me in person; because that's the kind of man Dr. Morton Rosenberg is. Evan and I did our best to explain the pickle we found ourselves in. We stayed up past midnight one evening glazing over the flood and damages, the validity of our sub-lease, and the threats of eviction coming from the opposing side. We were grateful once we got to the part about all of our supporters, readers, and customers. Lastly, we were relieved that by the time we got to the part about our farewell party, and the ambition to write and publish a food narrative, my grandparents ascertained, "Little Red Bike Cafe was a success." That despite the bumps, or perhaps because of them, Evan and I surfaced from the experience better people. Thankfully, my grandparents never once offered up the phrase "Life's not fair" during any of our discussions. That helped.

Although I didn't go to Martha's Vineyard with the intention of gaining their approval, the assessment and evaluation of my circumstances by two people who have witnessed and experienced nearly a century of history each, was exactly what I needed. As much as I wanted to believe our venture was a successful enterprise, there was still a part of me that came unglued when thinking about it. I felt plagued with the what-ifs, and the could-have-beens. I told my grandparents I was having a difficult time trying to figure out who I was without the cafe. I tried to explain that without it, my life felt rather empty. Waking, eating, sleeping, engaging. It was now all different.

They both seemed to agree that our future plans of travel would be good for us. "Seek inspiration in new experiences. Travel always helps to sort things out," my grandmother assured me. "When you get back, that's when you focus on getting a new routine."

Wise words, my friends, wise words.