“Coffee, she’d discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it.
Coffee was a lot like love that way.
And because [she] believed in love, she believed in coffee too.”
~from The Peach Keeper by Sarah Addison Allen
My first memories of coffee are deeply rooted in my Montana childhood. Camping trips, which were abundant during our 8-year sojourn to that wild and spacious state, were the one glorious occasion when we were allowed to drink the forbidden beverage.
Mom: It will stunt their growth, you know.
Dad: No it won’t. It’ll make them strong; put hair on their chests.
Mom: They don’t need hair on their chests—they’re just little girls!
Dad: Woman, it’s just a figure of speech! We’ll put lots of cream and sugar in it, okay? Let them live a little. It’s part of the camping experience.
Inevitably, Dad won out and we were rewarded with the brewed liquid joy of java. It toasted us, cut the chill of the early mountain mornings, and prepared us for a day of fishing, hiking, and exploring beneath the extensive blue of Big Sky Country.
Today, I take my coffee strong, Colombian, with a lot of cream and a dash of sugar. And, just like love, and just like childhood, it warms me through and through.
What does coffee mean to you?
Today’s Gratitude List:
- Coffee, obviously
- My medieval rose ring that arrived from Sundance today. I am very pleased with it!
- My much needed massage appointment this afternoon :)