It was later in life that we became entangled; but I remember you there in the background since the begining.
In my dad's percolator smelling up the house or wherever we went for that matter. I remember vividly visiting relatives or staying in a hotel and the percolator with my dad's coffee aroma wafing over me.
I didn't dare try.
Then I remember in college watching my comrades taking you in as they prepped for the infamous "all nighter" I never participated in.
I remember the first time in Europe seeing your stronger brother the espresso. Watching the Europeans drink and drink.
Still not my thing.
Even as Starbucks after Starbucks appeared on every corner of every city I lived in - I still did not partake.
Then I had my second child.
BE (Before Evan) I'd tried a vanilla with whip latte here and there. Of course, I partook in a cafe con leche every now and again but there was no relationship... no bond.
Until then.
The smell. The jolt of energy. The warmth in the winter or the refreshing icy quake in the summer. The pause.
All this and so much more make me wonder how I ever lived without you before.
I love how I've gotten to know you. The slight difference between a French Roast and a pure Espresso. How Hawaiian Kona or Jamaican Blue Mountain compare to Green Chiapas or Dark Kenyan.
I love how I can mix you with flavors or take you in plain with just a bit of cream and sugar. I love how I can tell what time of year it is based on what I'm drinking... in case the calendar ever fails me.
Thank you Java, Coffee, Cafe... I hope you know what you truly mean to me.
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