Paused at the coffee shop before work for a to-go cortado to shim my Thursday. 

“Pete,” Morgan greeted me when I walked in. 

Her expression seemed sombre, but that could’ve just been a pre-cortado take. 

“I have to give you something,” she said. 

Hands me a hand-written note. 

“Dearest Pete …” it began. 

__

Couple years ago I got the best birthday card from my daughter. 

She would’ve made a good cave painter. 

Her accompanying talk track illuminated the epic tale of her seeking counsel from Liam the Wise (whose official title is ‘barrista,’ but in this saga let’s call him “the Oracle”) on what all is involved in getting one’s mug hung on the wall behind the coffee shop’s counter. 

Liam not only gave her his wise counsel, but mapped her directions to the precise mountain where the monks live who, for hundreds of years, have been humbly practicing their glass making craft of the perfect cortado vessel. 

By which I mean he pointed her to a website. 

Upon procurement of the mug, he told her that I need only bring it in and they would take it from there.

In Emma’s card I knew that I might just be holding the best birthday present I would ever receive.

By which I mean the card, and the heart that made it. 

Whenever I walk in and see my mug hanging on the wall where I go to write my weekend medicine, I feel a tinge of what I imagine honored athletes feel seeing their jersey hung in the rafters of where they have done their best work. 

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The note Morgan handed to me was from Emma. Not my Emma, but Emma who works at the coffee shop. She started while she was still in high school and still works weekends while going to the local college. 

“My Dearest Pete …,” it began. “It breaks my heart to inform you that I accidentally dropped your mug and broke it ….” 

“I need a minute,” I told Morgan, and took a few steps back to read the rest, in which Emma profusely apologized, begged my forgiveness and even offered to pay for its replacement. 

She signed her note, “You’re most loyal and sorrowful barista, Emma.”

Which had me smiling by the time I looked up … appreciating that my Thursday morning had just found its shim.

By which I mean the note, and the heart that made it. 

 “She’s so upset,” Morgan said.

I asked when Emma worked next. 

“Saturday,” Morgan said.

So that night after work, I wrote a note.

__

Saturday morning I made sure to arrive when the coffee shop opened at 8:30. 

Emma was at the register, Liam at the espresso machine. 

“I’m so sorry … I’ll buy you a new one,” Emma said as soon as she saw me. 

I just shook my head.

“At least let me buy you your cortado.” 

As Liam went to fire up the espresso machine, I stopped him. 

Handed Emma my envelope. 

__

“My dearest Emma, 

You must know that there are few things in this world that I appreciate more than a hand-written note. 

Reading yours brought a spark of joy to my Thursday. 

If my beloved mug had to meet an untimely demise, I am grateful that it was at the hands of one who poured so many hearts into it.

You will not only appreciate that it was Liam who consulted with my daughter (whose name is also Emma) on the exact mug to buy me for my birthday two years ago (which will forever be my favorite birthday present ever), but that when she did so, it came in a set of two.

So I commission the enclosed to your care … on one condition. 

That you pour the first heart into it.”

She looked up from my note smiling the way her note made me smile. 

“I always carry a spare,” I said, handing over the ‘Emma 2’ … for official christening. 

She asked Liam if they could switch places. 

“Only fitting,” he said. 

“I don’t know,” Emma said sheepishly. “My first latte art this morning was a little shaky … I’m out of practice,” she said. 

“I know you have it inside you … and I mean that sincerely,” said Liam the Wise. 

Told ya’ he’s the Oracle. 

She took her time and filled it above the rim, trusting in the properties of surface tension and gravity to do their good jobs … so she could do hers. 

It’s always magic to me how the molecules grab on to one another, and keep each other from flowing away and spilling.

How our fragile cups can be filled beyond their measure.