As some of you may have gathered by now, I drink a bit of coffee and harbor a certain fondness for the men from whom I purchase said coffee. And I've been feeling a little bit sad recently at the lack of lunch cart on the corner of 116th & Amsterdam, not far from my office. Not because I don't have other options for my mid-day coffee, of course, but because the guy there and me, well, let's just say I've been buying coffee from him for a very long time. Over a decade now, in point of fact.
He's been known to go on vacation every once in awhile, and there have been scattered days when his little cart hasn't graced us with its presence. But this time feels different. It's been a couple weeks now since he's been around, and a couple days ago there was (gasp) a pretzel stand in his spot. Which seems somehow like he's given up that corner, and the city is offering it up to other street vendors. And this made me realize that while I put a lot of weight in my daily routines I have little idea what goes on behind them, or on other side of them. Has he left the country and gone back to his childhood home far away? (And where exactly is that far away, anyway?) Has he fallen ill (or possibly worse)? Will he ever again gruffly waive off my attempts at digging that last quarter out of the lint-strewn bottomless pit that is sometimes my bag?
It's funny to miss someone one barely knows, and yet there it is. This tiny, consistently bright thread woven through the fabric of my beloved city, through the daily fabric of my life, has disappeared into the unknown and unknowable and this, this breaks my heart a little bit.
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