Biggby, I am sorry.

I know, I know, I broke our little relationship up.

It’s my fault that our Sunday morning writing ritual disappeared, I understand that. Please hear me and try—try please—to remember that during those magical years, you were my favorite writing spot. That will always be true and it will never change.  I promise that. It meant something to me. What we had was real. I swear it was real for me.

I looked forward to our little Sunday meetings. Me arriving at 7 or so, shaking the rain or snow off of my coat, joking with your staff, playing your trivia game, ordering my breakfast, going to my favorite spot, setting up my computer and writing for two to three hours. It was so very special to me, and I like to think it was special to you too.

Biggby, you generated creativity. And for a writer, there is nothing that means more than that. You allowed me to breath there and relax, allow my writing to work at its own speed, not kicking me out, not rushing me…. and it all meant a lot to me.

Seriously, a lot.

The fact is, dear Biggby, life came between us. I have two little kids now and the idea of disappearing for two to three hours can feel a little… now don’t take this personally, Biggby… selfish.

Before you get upset from my saying that, hear me, I have news; there is a reason I am back- I am working on a book again. I am creating! And I wanted your help like in the past. (You always had my back, didn’t you?) That is why I came back, I wanted you by my side again. But in returning to your strangely warm orange walls and blazing fireplace… Well, something felt off for the both of us from the start. Even with that fire in August, I felt cold.

Yes, Biggby I felt cold and I think that is exactly what you intended, isn’t it?

Yes, it was a difficult reunion for both of us, and I didn’t make it easier. I won’t walk away from that blame. We both could feel the awkwardness in the air when I wasn’t certain what to order, forgetting my options for hot chocolate, and then almost embarrassed myself by ordering the wrong bragel. I laughed, you laughed, but it was fake laughter at best. Yes, inside we both had different stories going on.

The fact is our relationship was always clumsy at best, even before I left you for all of those months, let’s admit that. I never really stopped to consider how embarrassing it was to you that I don’t drink coffee. I am drawn to your “cute” drinks and I think I have tried every version of your hot chocolate you offer. But for a coffee establishment, that is a little humilating, isn’t it? But, and let me be honest here, Biggby I gave a little too. How do you mean, you ask? Fine, I’ll tell you- Your cookies are all dry.

Yeah, I just went there.

Frankly, your cookies are like eating cardboard, they aren’t warm and welcoming. They break in your hands with a snap and I am usually covered in crumbs for a day after attempting to eat one. Cookies shouldn’t be like that. It is unnatural.

Okay, okay, I went too far. I’m sorry, but I feel very defensive right now, but I know how sensitive you are. That is why I didn’t tell you about the cookies before, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I understood. But seriously, you need a better cookie recipe, there are a lot of options on the internet, just download a recipe, everyone will be happier.

I need to take a breath. Let me continue, the first sign you gave me that you had moved on was almost the most harsh. Someone else was in my writing spot. You know what I am talking about, so don’t play coy! That back corner near the fireplace, with the easy-to-access plug.

That was my spot! I loved that spot, I had written in that spot for each of those two years, and in the time I was gone you let someone just walk in and takes it over!

Fine, Biggby, fine I get it, you are angry. You are lashing out and I deserve it, I thought to myself as I took another table a little more the center of attention, feeling the eyes of customers coming in and out more on me, fighting back the tears you put in my eyes.

And as I began to write… Okay, you know I wear headphones, and we have talked about your poor taste in pop music in the past (Seriously, like I have said time and time again, you and your customers would be happier with classic jazz), but this time you seemed to rub it in my face. How many bad love songs from the 1970’s and techno dance songs from the 1980’s were you going to play this morning? And why was it all so much louder on your speakers, I could hear each of them clearly over my own headphones. It was like you were shouting at me, hurling your hurt feelings at me with each corny song you played. Is that what you were doing?

Yes, I could feel your pain Biggby in every bad song you shouted at me. I almost wonder if in choosing this music, do you want people like me to leave now? It’s like that story about how McDonald’s fills its restaurants with uncomfortable chairs so people want to leave after 20 minutes, are you attempting the same thing with your music choices these days? I know you don’t want to be Starbucks with their much better idea of atmosphere and music, but…

I’m sorry. That was mean. I’m sorry. I brought up the “S” word. I know. I know. I’m just hurt and I was lashing out… Let’s move on.

I’ll say it again, Biggby, it was my fault I stopped coming in weekly. Okay? It was mine. I admit it; I am the one that left without a word. While I didn’t know the name of your workers we were very friendly then. We were all so, so friendly then. They even put the bookmarks to one of my books on a shelf. The support meant a lot. I felt loved then.

Okay, there is one more thing I need to discuss about this Sunday… and I think you know what it is.

Do you remember how we laughed that one time when I said your tables are all too close together? You thought I was joking then, well, I wasn’t. See, once I started writing, that old guy sat next to me. You saw him, the one in the sweatpants.

I can’t blame you for that, I am not that silly. He can sit wherever he wants, it’s a free country. But the entire coffee shop was empty save the guy in my writing spot and me. So why sit right next to me? It felt a little too orchestrated for me. And I could feel his presence… See this is why I think your seats are too close, I felt him there, even when I wasn’t looking. And that hurt my creativity.

And then… Did you see this bit?… and then he started reading a Dan Brown paperback.

Here I am trying to create something new, literary, daring, possibly important, and you have some dude in sweatpants reading Dan Brown near me.  I almost stormed out right then. Yes, I said “stormed out.”

The fact is I miss our time together, it was so special then, but maybe I need to move on. It seems that you have and I wish you the best with the other writer and sweatpants guy. You all seemed happy together, and they even seemed to like your music selection.

For me, I will always remember our wonderful times together. My favorites were always around the winter holidays: your fun drinks, the welcoming holiday music, the little trees with lights, the crackling fire. When I look back at our time, I will always remember that first.

Look, I’ll try to stop in from time to time. Make sure you are okay. I promise. I just think it’s for the best I try a new place for writing…

I guess there is another Biggby opening around the corner.

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If you liked reading my article, why not check out some of my books? I had two novels published in the last few years, My Problem With Doors and Megan. You can find them via my amazon.com author page here. Thanks for reading!