The Other Love of My Life

Coffee.

You are my early morning companion.

The hour or two before my house resembles back stage at a burlesque show as the girls get ready for school.

My two hours of peace and quiet, and you.

I was introduced to you in 2005.  No, that’s not true, I’ve known of you my entire life.  My Dad drank coffee every day my entire life.

I loved your smell, so enticing, drawing me in, wishing you tasted as good as you smelled.  But the first time I tried, it was a cruel cruel joke. You tasted nothing like your enticing smell.

I would be years before you became a constant in my life.

2005.  I was dating Zack, and he was from Jordan (and I have no idea if that has anything to do with anything) but he loved espresso (yes, I know, there is no X in espresso). And so, every night after dinner he would make espresso.  It was an acquired taste, and I tried, really tried to acquire it. It was just too damned strong, and there was such a bite to it.

BUT every morning, Zack made coffee, and on the nights I stayed over, made me a cup while we got ready for work.  I got used to you being there as I did my hair and make up, I missed you when I had to stay at my place, so I bought a coffee maker.  Our morning ritual had begun.

I was a Starbucks Virgin until January 2007, when Brian came to stay the weekend, and I mentioned I’d never had Starbucks.  That had to be rectified immediately, and it was.  You were very good there, but I couldn’t afford you in your fancy dressy clothes.  I liked you comfortable and familiar at home. (Unless Brian offered to buy, then by all means).

Here we are, seven years in my love affair with you.  Every morning I wake up to you, even at Brian’s when I stayed there.  We enjoy a couple of hours of peace and quiet together while I read or write.  You have been my constant companion, you have been there for me every single morning for seven  years.  I love you almost as much as I love tequila.  And that’s saying something.