I am teary-eyed, trying to figure out where to begin.
Out There Coffee has been with me, unknowingly, through all my major milestones as an adult. A place that felt like home as soon as I walked in the door from the first time until, unknowingly, my last.

In 2019, I took a trip to Cape May right after my 25th birthday. I was at the tail end of the hardest year of my life to date. That trip was a balm for my soul and a respite for my husband and me, which we desperately needed. Our cousin told us about a new coffee shop she found the summer before, and I was dying to grab my first lumberjack latte. I fell head over heels for Out There and their lumberjack latte. It was all I thought about once I returned home. Quickly, my heart yearned not only for Cape May but for a lumberjack latte from Out There.

In 2021, I was able to visit Capy May again for the first time since COVID. I had just bought my home with my husband, and we spent a week in Cape May with my family. We stayed in a little house near the bay, the same one I stayed in when I was a kid. It was the week of my 27th birthday. On the morning of my 27th birthday, I got a coffee from Out There and walked along the beach. On the evening of my 27th birthday, I got engaged to my now-husband.

I returned in the summer of 2021 to look at wedding venues, and Out There lumberjack lattes fueled my search. In early 2022, my husband and I returned to finalize the details of our upcoming wedding, and Out There fueled us for that, too.

When planning my wedding, there was one thing I knew I needed on the morning of my wedding. It was a lumberjack latte from Out There and a walk on the beach by myself. I remember those moments like it was yesterday. It was a gorgeous, sunny morning, and I swear it was the best lumberjack latte I had to date. There was just something about a lumberjack and the crashing waves and your feet in the sand and collecting shells. It was the perfect morning before marrying the love of my life.

In the summer of 2023, we returned with both our families and had a week to relax on the beach without the go-go of a wedding. It was a week full of lumberjack lattes and shell hunting each morning. It was such a gift.

In 2024, as my 30th birthday drew closer, I was struggling. I felt the weight of getting older and did not know what my next steps in life were. I knew one thing: if I had to turn 30, I had to do it in Cape May. I spent mornings that week with lumberjack lattes, walking the beach. My 30th birthday trip to Cape May was once again balm to my soul.

We rang in 2025 in Cape May, and we brought our new puppy to the beach for the first time. He got to experience what it was like to get a lumberjack latte and walk on the beach with me in the morning. It was incredible to share something so special to me with our puppy and to have him see places (Cape May and Out There) that I feel have grown up with me.

In August of 2025, my husband and I took our first trip away from our puppy and spent a few days in Cape May. Even with a hurricane on the way, we still had a sunny morning to walk on the beach with our lumberjack lattes. I had no idea that day it would be my last lumberjack latte. My last day walking into Out There.

It is hard to describe the experience. Of walking into Out There and the distinct smell of Out There coffee brewing. Of the warmth hitting you once you stepped back outside with your iced cold coffee in hand. Of the sweet and strong taste of a lumberjack as you take your first sip before heading toward the beach. As you walk down Ocean Street, lined with Victorian Bed and Breakfasts. As you finally crossed the street and got to sink your feet in the warm sand. As you would stand near the jetty, seeing the expanse of the beach and the waves crashing. The salty air swirls around you, mixing with the flavors of the coffee as you take a sip.

My heart will always yearn to go back to that place, to the experience, and I am thankful for each lumberjack and for each coffee I had from Out There over the years. I am thankful that such a place existed to hold me through some of the hardest, craziest, and happiest years of my life.