Coffee

Awhile ago I had coffee with a friend in a local Second Cup. I saw Americano posted on the board. Immediately I thought of the strong coffee I had consumed in England while on holiday. I remember mistakenly believing the English were only good at brewing tea (or are they?) Not so. Coffee is their forte, too.

I ordered a double Americano, added a bit of cream to the china cup and then I nursed it for an hour. I breathed in the rich aroma, I savored the strong taste on my tongue. I thought back to the cafes where I enjoyed the brew and the French pastries we would treat ourselves to. (I know – French pastries in England, but true).  I thought of my travelling companions and our adventures. Coffee started our days – usually a cappuccino in the morning., then off for a day of adventure.

In the Dominican Republic we enjoyed cappuccinos, too. It would be late afternoon, after a day on the beach. We’d sit and relax by the pool before it was time to dress for dinner. We’d have them after dinner, too, as we waited for the evening’s entertainment to begin.

At home we get together for coffee to catch up on the week’s news. I often think about coffee. Is it the coffee or the act of drinking it that seems to relax us? Sharing a strong brew with friends, talking about everything and nothing – that’s what it’s all about.

My friends know that I’m a coffee drinker. They know I like it strong. But if they ever looked inside my cup would they find the cup empty or would it be left unfinished from too much talking?

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