I sat there. Forlorn, empty. There was a lack of direction at that moment of my life. A lack of activity, energy.
That all might have been due to the fact that I was a “run on my hormones” teenager stuck in a car as we “road-tripped” to a city which was far down there on my list of places to visit.
Or it might have been so because I, even at the age of 11 was the most melodramatic person you could come across so being so at almost 16 too made sense.
And let’s add a bit more drama here. I had just realized I would be celebrating my “sweet 16” far away from my friends in a new town, amongst unknown people.
Granted at this age I would see the advantages to such a situation and feel the excitement of celebrating my birthday in a historically exotic place-in short I had see it now as a beautiful opportunity-but at that time it sounded worse then a life-imprisonment sentence to me.
Hence, all the circumstances put together, I was having a stellar of a journey as I lounged like a moody teenager between my mom and my sister.
Till we made that pit stop halfway to our destination at that cute little cafe.
Oh. How little things can have huge impacts on us.
I wasn’t a fan till then of any beverage but coke. And no eatable but donuts would I munch down on. But having your 16th approach you at Concorde speeds is an eye opener. So, just recently I had started swapping out the fat for much “healthier” options in my life.
Not, exactly, to be healthy. But to lose weight.
So, when we sat at a corner table in that quaint cafe in the road side and everyone finalized their orders, my sister suggested I share her coffee with her seeing that I wanted to eat nothing else.
I wanted to bitch and whine but my family was already on my case “that I eat too little” so I kept my cool and just shrugged.
When the waiter finally brought the food around, I looked at the steaming pot of coffee and wanted to hide (how stupid we can be) for I had the impression that coffee can only be only bitter and disgusting (never judge a book by what you hear guys).
My share was poured out, my cup placed in front of me and my family watched on while the cup and I stared at each other.
I willing for it to disappear, the coffee begging me to give it a chance. And my family-just not sure as to what the hormonal teenager would do next.
Finally, I took a huge breath, squinted my eyes, pinched my nose and then went for the kill.
But-wait. What is this thing? It’s bitter, it’s mildly weird but-I still want more.
And I had more. One sip, two, three-and then the whole cup was finished.
I didn’t want more, for a newbie coffee drinker those 150ml or so of a caramel cappuccino was enough.
But I knew this was the beginning of something good.
And I was far from wrong.
For that journey, I found something new to be excited about.
And in the long run it was the start of a new affair for for me.
My love affair with coffee started off a little slow, with a cup once a week (mainly because Mum wouldn’t let me have more) but it moved on to two then three per week.
Fast forward to today, and I can’t go one day without at least one cup. And two is just as much a norm.
It kick starts my mornings, it warms my bones on cold days, it soothes me on bad ones. It energizes me when I am tired and, amazingly, it’s the one thing which can make me feel better no matter how bad my day is going.
It calms me, centers me and brightens me up all at the same time.
A friend recently said the number of pictures I take of coffee and how I go out on a daily bases to new places to try their coffees I should become “a coffee critic”.
Another suggested I name my blog “the coffee way”.
All brilliant ideas, but I believe although most people see how I love a good cup of coffee they don’t get it’s not an addiction.
It’s this love I have for it, a need I have to keep it in my life. Maybe it could be for in the past four years so many changes have come in my life that I want this one constant to remain there always.
Or, like I said before, it’s just an absolute affection for a flavor, a taste, that neither my taste buds nor my heart can go a day without.
It’s a best-friend I can sit with on rainy mornings and share my deepest thoughts with. It’s a keen ear I can have with me in quaint cafés to discuss the strangest politics with, it’s a prop I can use to meet up with old friends or hang out with new ones, it’s a conversation starter, it’s a common ground to build new relationships on.
It’s my favorite partner to have on quite, cold evenings when I sit at my window seat after a long hot bath and stare out at the deserted streets.
So, I have a love for coffee that is neither romantic nor unsentimental. It has dynamics that maybe most won’t get. But then many will for if not coffee, there is always that one constant in our lives that we hang on to with both hands hoping we don’t have to let go of it, both for our happiness and our peace of mind.
To love. In all it’s weird yet unlimited forms. Happy 28 days of love to you.
P.S. Check my Facebook page for more information on #28daysoflove .