We first met in 1993, way back when we were both sleeker, shinier, and, yes, a lot less mature. I first saw you in this newfangled business called a “coffee shop.” This particular coffee shop was called The Coffee Cave, located on Marshall Street just off the Syracuse University campus (some younger people might find this hard to believe, but a coffee shop in the sense that we know it today -- think of people holing up with their laptops all day -- didn’t exist until the early 1990s).

I often stopped into The Coffee Cave in the mornings between classes to get that needed jolt of energy and to relax for a few minutes. I don’t exactly remember the first morning when you caught my eye, but I do recall checking you out from time to time. And then one day I decided I’d have the courage to bring you home with me.

You were my daily campus companion, accompanying me to classes and study sessions and whatever else I had going on. I rarely left home without you by my side, and on the days when you stayed behind, I often found myself wondering where you were.

When my college days ended, you came along with me as I crisscrossed the country bouncing from job to job. Some days you came along with me to spend time in the newsroom. On other days, you tagged along as I went out to report on whatever story I was covering that day. There were a few times – maybe one or two – where I accidently left you behind on a bench in the park or on a table at the library, but you were always there waiting for me when I turned around to find you. You never judged me on those days when we were almost separated for good – you must have known how important you were to me.

When I got married and then when we had our son, I made sure you still had a key role in my life. You greeted me in the kitchen every morning, giving me the energy to tackle the day. You were always the first thing I looked for when I came downstairs, and you never let me down.

We’ve been together now for almost 30 years – I’ve probably seen you on more days than anyone (or anything) in my life. It’s been a great run, but let’s face it, we’re both getting older (OK, let’s just say we’re both “seasoned”). I have a whole kitchen full of newer, sleeker options, and after 30 years, I think it’s time to give some of them a chance. You were great when I had you in the car or on the bus as you helped kept me neat and tidy, but now, I’m only taking you up two flights of stairs, and I’m not really an accident-prone kind of person.

This isn’t exactly farewell – maybe you’ll still join me from time to time for the sake of nostalgia – but I think this is really for the best. So goodbye old friend – I’ll miss you.