Ode to 20 below

My Office

My Office

I have three offices – one on campus, one at my house, and one at a nearby coffee shop.

My coffee shop office is a round table with three chairs in the corner near east-facing windows. Before the pandemic, you could find me in my coffee shop office nearly every Monday through Friday for a few hours. I would get hot or iced tea (depending on the weather) and maybe a scone, pull out my laptop and headphones and get to work.

My coffee shop office.

I would see people I know and spend some time chatting with them as they came in for their respective coffee group or grabbed a refreshment during a break from work. It was a joke among the people who worked there, those who frequented the coffee house, and my friends that I should put a plaque marking that table as my office. I have received photos from friends on two different occasions showing me that they were using my office in my absence.

Then the pandemic came, and my office wasn’t safe for a while. I missed my sunny workspace and the people I saw there regularly. I went through withdraw during the lockdown and struggled to find spaces in my own home that could be my new “office.” I reorganized and repainted my home office to take advantage of the sunlight and view of the street. I sometimes worked at my dining room table or even the kitchen counter. These spaces allowed me to work, but they weren’t the same.

While the pandemic isn’t over, I do spend a little time in my office nearly every week. I sometimes have meetings there, or I might spend a few hours on Friday afternoon when the coffee house is generally slow. Of course, I still enjoy a hot or iced tea and maybe a baked sweet treat, but it’s not the same.

The space hasn’t changed, but I have. It doesn’t quite meet my needs like it used to. I’m not fond of the commotion of the coffee shop as much as I once did. Living along during a pandemic has shown me how much I need quiet and space from other people.
Now, I much prefer the desk in my home office. I can spread out my notebooks, computer, and papers while revising a lab for my classes, going down a research rabbit hole, or writing a new blog. But, I still enjoy a cup of tea, play music, light a candle. So, this is the workspace I need now.

Sometimes things change, and sometimes we change. I miss what was then and is no more. But, I am grateful that it existed and was there for me when I needed it. I hope it provides the space others need to do their work.

Sauna

Unanswered

I thought about you during yoga class tonight. Smiled as I remembered how we would leave work and head to have tea/coffee before yoga class. First classes with Beth and Tammy. Then eventually with Abbe at the old firehouse on Commercial. It was one of our rituals. You turned me onto this practice of dogs that face upward and downward.

Our lunches at Tea Bar and Bites was another ritual. We practically ran from the building on those days. Our little retreat from that toxic office. Our table was in the backroom, where we could talk privately. Then there was that period we ate lunches and played backgammon on a fellow yogi’s porch in Roundtree. I can’t remember her name. You taught me backgammon. I loved our games. I can’t bring myself to play now.

Our table at Tea Bar and Bites – a respite from a miserable job.

You showed me the little things in life that made it wonderful. Walks in beautiful neighborhoods, the joys of living simply. Good food. Soft sheets and towels. You said the things you touch should feel good. I still only buy things that feel good to the touch.

We met when I was a young wife, a new homeowner, and fresh to the full-time workforce. You were my friend who had “been there, done that.” Marriages, kids, jobs, life. You had seen a lot of life. You helped me see I deserved more from life. Gave me space to figure out what to do as my marriage disintegrated. Provided the wine, sympathetic ear, and friendship on many nights, I miss those conversations at your Stickley kitchen table where we talked about life and solved the world’s problems.

You encouraged me to find a new job. Move away. Gave me a kick in the pants when I needed it. Allowed me to cry when I moved to a scary new place and was overwhelmed by it all. We talked for hours on the phone nearly every night for months. Five hundred miles disappeared with a single phone call.

I know we had been drifting apart for a while. I know our friendship wasn’t what it once was the last time we spoke. I don’t know why you just stopped talking to me. Never returned my calls or texts. Our friendship ended in an argument in late 2017. Ten years of friendship ended in a heartbeat without an explanation.

The smell of cedar bows at Christmas in your home. The warmth of your hug. The joy of drinking wine and talking with you.

Your company was gone in an instant.

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