Mullis: Goodbye, Timmies. And thank you.

“Did you hear Tim Hortons closed?”

I was alarmed when I heard this and hoped the speaker was wrong.

That night I scoured the Internet but found nothing about the store closing, not even a rumor. I wasn’t reassured, so I decided to be sure.

The next afternoon, I purposely ran an errand to Beckley Road to see for myself. I knew it was closed before I stopped the car. The drive-thru was empty.

I parked and walked to the locked door. Paper prevented me from peeking inside, a sign in black marker stating, “Sorry - We’re closed.”

When did this happen?

I wanted answers, so I entered the gas station that shares the building with Tim Hortons. The cashier told me the closing happened with little warning on a Tuesday. Within the hour everyone was gone.

She told me she didn’t understand why. They always had customers. She told me there was a Tim Hortons in Kalamazoo, but I don’t live in Kalamazoo. I live in Battle Creek.

For two years, however, I lived in Canada. There is a Tim Hortons on every corner in Canada and every Canadian is on a first name basis with the place.

“We’re getting Timmies. You want some?”

They sell brewed coffee and the stuff you eat with brewed coffee — cookies, muffins, bagels, doughnuts. Not five kinds of coffee. Just one. They have meal combos, which don’t come with fries, but your choice of baked goods.

It’s all carbs and caffeine.

My family became familiar with the place between 2010 and 2012. We learned the preferred way Canadians take their coffee — two creams and two sugars, or a “double-double.” We learned about honey crullers, butter tarts and “ice caps” — the frozen cappuccino drink a Canadian bank teller once told me she could smell five feet away.

I think it smells like ice, but I’m an American.

Being invited to Timmies is a sign of friendship. Waiting in line at Timmies is a national pastime. Giving a gift card from Timmies is a gesture of goodwill.

In 2011, while still sipping double-doubles in O Canada, we learned Tim Hortons was opening a Battle Creek location. I was thrilled.

Moving home in 2012 wasn’t what we expected. I thought we’d merge seamlessly back into the swing of things, but we missed two years of people’s lives here. And they missed two years of our lives there. It’s one thing to feel like a stranger in a strange land. It’s another to feel that way at home.

Life wasn’t an adventure, just awkward.

When I felt displaced or my kids had a tough day, we would go to Tim Hortons, using one of the many gift cards our Canadian friends gave us while saying goodbye.

The shop wasn’t close to our house or our errand-running circuit. It would be a special trip, but sitting by the faux fireplace, sharing some Timmies felt normal.

One of my first feature assignments for the Enquirer after returning home was interviewing Canadian-born artist Sabine LeDieu. We met at the Tim Hortons and talked as much about Canada as her art. It was cathartic for me.

Time passed and home slowly felt like home again. My need for Timmies Therapy lessened and I returned to my Starbucks ways.

Still, every couple of months, I would stop at Timmies to sip coffee by the fireplace and remember friends. Just the scent would take me back to Canada — a cheap time machine.

Now it is gone, just like that. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye or express my gratitude for easing our road back home.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of “A Teacher Named Faith.” You can reach her at nlvm.columns@gmail.com or www.NicoleLVMullis.com.