On Tuesday a sign said the cafe would close on Friday. So I went today, Thursday, for my last vanilla bean cremekula. A makeshift barrier greeted me. Closed. I stood in silence, shocked. Sick at heart.

I’d planned my day around this nostalgic moment. I left the store, feeling sad, but with two more bottles of raspberry syrup for Marv’s coffee. Seventy-five percent off. I would have been willing to pay full price if only Borders would stay.

On Tuesday I’d taken my camera. Now I’m super happy I did. Here are my last pictures of the Borders on State that was. The first is what I see when I walk west on Randolph to get there. I imagine tomorrow there will be huge posters in the window announcing their liquidation sales. I’ve seen them when the Borders closed on Michigan Avenue across from Water Tower Place. Sad. The end of an era.

The view from State Street facing west.

The view looking north on State Street.

The cafe, a reader’s and writer’s dream milieu.

The sign. I’m sorry too.

One for the road.

A State Street view SE from the cafe: Macy’s, no longer Marshall Fields. Irony?

Perusing the shelves on Tuesday for a special book to commemorate this closing, I stumbled upon the Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus.  Perfect. Forty dollars. And I had a ten dollar off coupon for a purchase over $30.

The Thesaurus says that “sad” can mean “unhappy, sorrowful, dejected, depressed, downcast, miserable, down…”  You get the idea.

But I do believe in resilience – “…quick to recover, buoyant, irrepressible.”

So I hope to be “quick to recover” and find the next best place to buy my favorite books, write, and sip cremekulas. By the way, did you notice that my “last” one wasn’t vanilla bean after all? I could not resist their special of the day. And I sign off with a special thank you and farewell to Borders, a cozy, nurturing part of my life.