Remembering Junebugs Café

I stumbled across some old photos I had taken of our little place. Seems like forever ago now. Two-thousand-six… not that long ago I guess… but then again 3 and-a-half years can seem like 10 when you’re piecing your life back together. I do miss it though. Especially in the winter. I loved what 6 o’clock on a chilly winter morning felt like there. The amazing steel-cut oatmeal with brown sugar and milk that I ate almost every day. Everyone made fun of me because I drank it like a health shake, from a paper cup…(and maybe also because I insisted that it actually was a health shake, more healthy than any other IN THE WORLD). The exquisite and perfect espresso that I would make for myself on one of the nicest espresso machines in the country (literally), and then consume in a near-religious ceremony. Ah, and the little orange cup I’d drink it in. Loved those cups. The warm smell of scones pulled out of the oven was like a snuggie, and the way the blue pendant light over the register glowed through the window behind it, so that it shone out into the dark cold morning from inside, was strangely comforting. To me at least.

There were many little details that were all my favorite. The memories are nice.

Sure, there were hard things too… the stress, dealing with difficult employees, all the money stuff, and the eventual pain of watching something that we sweat and bled for die in our own hands.

Honestly though, I just remember the good parts.