My relationship with coffee has been tumultuous. Odd, right? It's either something you love and constantly consume, or hate and avoid at all costs. Mine has been a bit of both, but I'll take some writing with my coffee, even still.
My Love of Coffee
I remember creeping downstairs in the early morning and turning on the coffee pot. While everything else in the kitchen was still, and the floor tile warmed slowly under my toes, coffee dripped and the machine bellowed and gurgled.
Patiently I waited, hoping my sneakiness wouldn't be foiled by the overwhelming scent of coffee filling the air. With unsteady muscles that wavered in the early hours of the morning, I filled two large cups of coffee. One took a splash of cream. One took cream and a half of a spoonful of sugar.
Years later, I always wondered why the carpet on the stairs was splattered with brown stains. Apparently, I spilled quite a bit.
Until I became an angsty teenager, I took coffee to my parents on the weekends.
My coffee kick began just before 16, right in time for my morning commute to school during a blustery December. It was coffee that woke me up early enough to attend a few 8 am classes (only made that mistake one semester).
In Rome, during a semester abroad, I sipped cappuccinos while speaking broken Italian in front of the Pantheon.
Coffee flowed through my veins as I organized, researched, and wrote my senior thesis.
It was my companion. We were tied together, fated by sentimental memories until we weren't.
Sometimes, you're mind trips you up. It happens for many reasons and due to a number of circumstances. Mine was anxiety, which urged me to break up with coffee.
Coffee could tip me just over the edge, made me jittery, and kept my mind running. So, I had to say goodbye. For about a year, my coffeepot sat on my kitchen counter, unplugged.
Longingly, during a cold day, I gazed at the coffee pot, wishing I could have a cup. It was hard - letting go. Putting the kibosh on a habit I SO enjoyed. Little did I know, coffee would creep back into my life in the best of ways.
Coffee Writes Poetry
Coffee has long been a literary device. Some of the greatest writers of all time have had love affairs with coffee. T.S. Eliot once said, "I measured out my life with coffee spoons."
They say you're never safe around a writer. You're definitely never safe around a writer with coffee.
I started writing, and my courage grew through my diligent practice. I felt so invigorated that coffee began calling my name again, and I couldn't resist.
I started with decaf (lame, I know). With some more courage and a few weeks under my belt, I was enjoying one cup of coffee every few days.
And not only where my taste buds thanking me, but my words... They started flowing!
Coffee, as a part of my daily routine, has been with me through some critical moments in life.
Sipping on coffee, I've heard bad news.
Happy coffee memories stain my sheets, where I've been brought coffee by my love (who detests it).
Making coffee, I've learned lessons, spoken to strangers, accomplished some of my biggest goals.
For all of these reasons, and due to our journey together, coffee continues to be a muse of mine. I don't take my coffee with sugar, or half & half, but I'll sure as hell take some writing with my coffee.