She’s gone again.  Our good friends and neighbors, Anthony & Vivian, who own Plowshares Coffee in Harlem and Bloomingdale (and who roast the coffee we serve at Sap Bush Cafe), ran into another labor shortage this January.

Saoirse was only too glad to help them out.  She threw her sleeping bag and a change of clothes into her pack, and headed back down to the big apple this month.

And this time, when I was ready for a break from counting steaks and lamb chops in the farm freezer, Ula and I took a few days and grabbed a train down to spend some time with her. 

We criss-crossed the city as a trio while Bob enjoyed being the one who got to stay home this time to do chores and hang out with the dogs and cats. 

We hung out with our bird friends in Central Park, sucked down multiple hot chocolates, lattes and cappuccinos at the Plowshares Harlem cafe*, then zipped all the way down to the village to do a walking tour down there, visited Murray’s cheese shop, then went in pursuit of Levain chocolate chip Cookies.  Saoirse even hit up a wig shop to pick up a new accessory for wearing behind the espresso bar when #SapBush Saturdays return in April. 

It was a glorious time, where we just relished a few moments of feeling lighter than air, happy to be together, our problems behind us for the time being.  

And the next day, Saoirse went back to work and Ula and I packed up to go home.  I knew it was only a few weeks before my girl was back, but I was still weepy about letting her go to work that morning.  I promised her I’d swing by for one last cappuccino before catching the train back upstate.

And so I walked down to the shop, and there she was, cheerfully greeting each customer with the same kind of upstate love that thrums behind the espresso bar at home.  I stood on the back wall and just watched her.  

Service has to be fast in the city.  But somehow, she’s figured out that it can still contain warmth.  I hear it in her voice as she greets each customer.  She knows that it matters that she is there, on this morning.  She knows that this little cafe matters, that each of these people, moving about their lives, matter.  And she gives herself fully to the work.  I quietly take my cappuccino and slip out the door, not wanting to embarrass my kid while she’s doing her job.

But the line is brought to a halt.

“BYE MOM!!!!  I LOVE YOU!!!”  She waves wildly from the register.

All those hardened New York customers break into warm smiles and laughter. 

And with her words and unabashed joy and affection, she reminds me that I matter, too.  

Damn, I love that kid. 

*I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, but while Bob was undergoing his cancer treatment in the city in November and December, he and I made  point of finding a new place to drink a cappuccino every day, evaluating every cafe we could find across the city.  Plowshares in Harlem remains our absolute favorite….for the light, the serenity of the space, the sense of community and conviviality…and of course, the coffee…..