My Corner Office
This morning, I had breakfast with Kait because she has a brood of kids (okay, three…but that seems like a lot) and she can always count on to help get them distributed and collected to and from their activities and obligations. She and I met at work several years ago when we were both navigating major personal and professional life changes. Even though we’re from different generations and grew up about 100 miles apart, something clicked immediately. We were just safe for each other. No judgment. No weirdness. Just two people figuring it out, together.
She reminded me of my younger self, but smarter. She had a wisdom that surprised me because she was 26, so her brain had only just wrapped up its development. Kait was handling quite a bit and she carried it all with a kind of grace that knocked me sideways. She was one of those rare people who helped me do the hard things (called me out on them, too) but never made me feel like I was broken. When she left education to pursue photography (Kait Lazarus Photography) I was so proud of her…but also a bit afraid. By then, she had a fiancée, and I had this deep-rooted fear that I would be replaced. That once I wasn’t needed, I wouldn’t belong. But that’s not how family works.
Turns out, I didn’t lose Kait. I gained a whole bunch of extra family. Her wife. Their kids. Their chaos and their joy. I’ve never loved human beings more than I love those people, and the past several years have helped me understand what family is, and that you just do for family. You show up. You share scary, hard parts of your soul and trust that they’ll still love and protect you. It’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I’m proud of it.
After breakfast, I planned to spend time time writing in my corner office (my favorite seat at Java Owl Cofeee House). As we were heading to our vehicles, Kait said her scheduled park playdate with a friend who was in town had been rained out, so they were going to meet at the coffee shop. I asked which, and she told me “the one you’re always going on about.”
As I took my seat and she went about the business of chatting with her friend and wrangling the kids, I felt that nervous, intimate feeling of introducing someone I love to a place I love. I’ve talked this place up so much. It’s like bringing a friend to your church for the first time, hoping they’ll feel what you feel. I never had good models for any of this—relationships, religion, belonging—but I’m learning, and a lot of that learning has taken place right there at that coffee shop.
I wrote as Kait visited with her friend (another bond forged through public education). I watched her kid who I love more than anything play and not be "too much." I listened to conversations and patron-played piano music and felt content. There was a thunderstorm rolling across the bay out to the gulf, and the darkening sky made the bright, open space inside feel that much cozier. Conversations, laughter, old friends catching up, espresso machines exhaling, the clink of dishes—it all rolled together with the thunder and flashes of lightning in this comforting, cinematic way. I was so happy to exist, to be alive, to be here—writing letters to people, places, and things I’ve loved.
If I hadn’t had the absolute worst year of my life, I might not have been able to feel that depth of appreciation. I first came to Java Owl about a year ago, in the middle of a summer where I thought I had everything figured out. My life was brilliant and only getting better. Then it all fell apart. I sat in that corner chair for about 9 hours on a Thursday in December. I hadn’t slept, I cried and threw up all morning, skipped work, and just drove there without really thinking about it. It was the only place I knew to go, and it was the only place I felt safe. Nobody made me feel like I didn’t belong. It was weird—but this place is like an energy vortex to me.
Java Owl isn’t just a coffee shop. It’s a sanctuary. It’s where I’ve come to sit with myself, to think, to write, and to wrestle with truths I’ve avoided in every other corner of my life. If I’ve had a church in adulthood, it’s this place.
I’ve walked in here on some of my highest highs and lowest lows. I've cried. I’ve celebrated. I’ve made peace with endings, admitted mistakes, and begun again. I’ve written parts of my memoir, processed heartbreak, and figured out how to move forward. I’ve realized that I am resilient, capable, and worthy—not because anyone told me so, but because I saw it in myself here.
The space is cozy without being cramped. Bright and airy, but still intimate. The staff are genuinely nice and make you feel welcome. John, the owner, exudes kindness in how he interacts with both customers and employees. I’ve watched him train newbies with patience, clarity, and a kind of grace that reminds me of the classroom (or any role I’ve ever had in public education). It’s all about building relationships, communicating clearly, working toward the same goal.
You can feel that spirit here. People of all ages and backgrounds filter in for different reasons—connection, caffeine, quiet. Even when the line is long, no one seems to mind. It’s not chaos; it’s community.
And I sit here at my post in the corner, facing the doors, like the neurodivergent sentry I’ve always been—watching, writing, becoming. As I type this, I can hear the sound of Kait’s laugh (cackle) from across the room, rising above the chatter. I suppose she This place and these people have been a quiet witness to everything I’m trying to become. Kait Lazarus Photography, Java Owl Coffee House, and the public education system that has both saved me and nearly killed me more times than I can count... they’ve each taught me how to be a person in a different way.
Kait taught me that I could be loved without being useful. Java Owl taught me that peace doesn’t need to be earned. Teaching taught me how to build calm in the middle of someone else’s storm—even while mine was still raging quietly in the background.
So yeah. This is more than a blog post. It’s a thank you letter. It’s a creative reset, and maybe a soft launch of whatever comes next ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯
