I simply can not get over my love of coffee. As soon as I wake up, I head right over to the coffee maker to get it going. I fancy flavored coffee (rather than flavored cream or shots) so I go with a scoop of hazelnut (not decaf) and a scoop of decaf. This way I’m getting enough caffeine to wake me but not so much that I could paint the next Sistine chapel.
While I’m waiting for my pot to brew, I start thinking of what it is I have to write and/or edit today, and what I will be writing my blog post on as well. Sometimes the two intertwine but mostly they remain separate. As I’m planning in my mind, that beautiful smell of fresh coffee waifs under my nose and I inhale deeply. I literally can’t wait to pour my first cup and fix it with a dash of milk and two sugars.
I get up a couple of hours prior to my three year old so that I can have some solitude. I CRAVE being alone with myself. Silence has always been my best friend and it’s during the silence that I create all my writing that has filled countless notebooks throughout my life. With my son still asleep, I fix my coffee and head over to the computer to check and answer emails.
I relish every sip of my perfectly flavored masterpiece and swallow slowly. I don’t want to rush the calming sensation it gives me. That first cup of hot, fresh coffee in the morning is like an imaginary masseuse giving me a deep, slow back rub. It wakes up my senses and warms my mind. I’ll finish my pot of coffee till the last drop, although sometimes I do make extra to cool and have later as iced coffee. But for the most part the pot disappears before my son even rubs the sand from his eyes.