I truly enjoyed my coffee. I took my time making every cup, even if it was instant or Kreuger. Never had I taken it on the run, with one foot out the door. Oh no!
Our companions have always been carefully chosen – a dear friend, a cinnamon bun, a book, dark chocolate or just milk. Oh, adding milk to my coffee was alike a sacred ritual, secret magic – drop by drop like pearls to a treasure chest, or by a thin silky thread – for just the perfect color, percieved intuitively rather than with a physical eye.
I never missed its call, never gave it up for something or somone else, I was always ready when it was. Coffee has always been a huge part of my life. The one Constanta there is. Was…
When did we part ways?
Apparently, a while ago. But it is only today that I realized the sad fact.
I should have noticed the change when coffee became exclusively instant. With so much milk that it was more milk with coffee than vice versa.
I missed the sign of decay when I started my second morning cup without ever feeling the taste of the first.
It went downhill from there.
Today, when I chose orange juice over a second cup of coffee, it struck me. And it is hard. Because the realization is so fresh, I still have hope that all is not lost and that we can fix this.
Digging into myself for answers, I found the reason why coffee and I grew apart.
Not surprisingly, It is because of a third party. Someone who so strongly demanded my time and attention that I could not ignore it. And I made my choice.
Now coffee is just a drink to get me going, a habit. To take but not to enjoy.
But as with any issue that is transformative to one’s self, it’s all in one’s head. It’s all in my head. And as soon as I am ready to detach my time and attention from that third party, I will be able to enjoy my coffee again.
Meanwhile, I have a Little Someone to enjoy, and he is a worthy substitute.