Dear Coffee,
Remember those days, year ago, when I didn’t drink you? Oh sure, I hung out at the local coffee shop with my buds all the time, listening to live music or just chatting. But honestly, I was there for the fellowship. And the girls.
But not you.
That all changed on The Boat, didn’t it? Those long, grinding hours of planning, planning, and then planning. The minutes of sleep. The 1am wake ups. It was there that I discovered you in all your basically-nothing-more-than-caffeinated-tar glory.
It’s been a long road since those early days together. I’ve learned the difference between “tasty” and “by all things holy, what is this?!” I’ve followed new and trendy paths, experimenting with complex orders that involve words like “skinny” and “soy”. Yet, in the end, I’ve always come back.
You sexy, smoldering pot of magma, you.
Like a true friend, you’ve always been there for, me. Clearing the haze of too little sleep or keeping me mobile for late-night drives. You’ve helped me make critical career decisions, write new words, and avoid suicidal deer. I don’t drink as much of you as I used to, but that doesn’t change how I feel.
You don’t so much complete me as you simply make me.
What’s that? Have a another cup?
Well….okay.
-J