I started drinking coffee in college. It was more of a study aid than a beverage. Dark, aromatic, slightly bitter, I took it with half and half, along with a donut, or a cookie, or a piece of chocolate. The caffeine and sugar got me through the late hours.
Today, I enjoy my coffee black. I care enough to grind the beans each morning and am rewarded with its sweet aroma. During brewing, I watch the first few pale brown drops drip into the carafe. I leave, but I am never really gone as the bouquet continues to flirt with me. Shortly, upon my return, I behold a full pot of liquid – hot, rich, and dark.
When it sits in my mug, I observe wisps of rising steam. Looking closer, I note faint patches of oil on the surface. I contemplate the day ahead and take a sip. Within moments, anything seems possible.