Coffee and Memories


Its 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The hammocks swing in the breeze and a small group of ladies lay around the pool. The gentle hum of the washing machine assures me that I’m not behind with my laundry. The guys just ran off to work on the land. I can slightly hear the wavering cry of the goats from a distance. Birds chirp and the river softly flows.

This feels like a perfect moment to have a cup of coffee.

I confess. I’m an addict. I am addicted to coffee. 

I’m not sure if its the robust taste. I think that my addiction is rooted in the memories associated with the strong brew.

I remember early morning prayer meetings with my friends at a local coffee shop when I lived in the Dallas area. The aroma of the potent caffeine brings those moments back to life for me.

I remember sitting on my porch and sipping the boiled brew as my children played in the yard.

Coffee has been a constant for me.

Life changes at an accelerated rate. Life keeps happening. It moves on and on, even when I’m slowing down. Life is quick. In one blink of the eye, a lifetime of choices create current circumstances.

Coffee was there the whole time.

I think that I’m addicted to remembering. Perhaps coffee helps me to process each transition.

I’ve recently been introduced to Italian coffee. I love the smooth taste. Mostly, I love the night that it made my acquaintance. Ruben and I went to dinner in Williamsburg, VA with lifelong friends. We spent that Valentines weekend walking down the colonial streets of Williamsburg. Our time with them was special. We’ve been friends for so long. They know us well. Distance didn’t cause our friendship to diminish, it only made us want to spend more time together.

At our Valentines dinner, we laughed about life. We listened as they shared the stories of their travels to Europe. My ears perked as they talked about the coffee in Italy. It was a sweet evening. One that I will cherish. Moments spent with those I love have a permanent place in my heart.

Yet, they come to an end. Moments end. Maybe they just shift into new moments.

Coffee helps me to remember.

The authentic taste. The aroma. The sharp, hot bite on my tongue quickens my response. It wakes me up and says, “Life continues.”

So, I sit today on my balcony and sip. I want this moment to remain. I want to remember today and all of the goodness around me.

The men are back. I hear them slamming the dominoes on the game table. The girls are talking in soft tones and the goats are resting. The breeze keeps us all comfortable and the hammocks keep us snuggled. The birds still chirp. And coffee is by my side. A nice hot cup with a touch of cinnamon and caramel smooths over the moment. Today will be remembered.


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