A sudden cacophony
of voices erupting from the alarm clock propels him out of bed, dislodging me
from sleep in the process. He heads to
the only object worth mentioning this early, while I follow, stumbling along
blindly. We enter the kitchen and flick
on the lights, startling the cat dozing in front of the refrigerator. She stretches languidly and shakes her head. It is now time to begin our morning
ritual.
It sits on the counter, well-used and
surrounded by accessories. The morning ceremony
we perform is centered around it. It is the reason we wake up each
morning. He opens a cupboard door and
proceeds to pull out a handful of small, dark beans smelling of soils and
far-away spices. As he prepares the
offering, I carefully fill up a glass decanter with water. A few moments later, a loud whirring noise
announces the transformation of those beans into a gritty powder. After careful
measurement, he scoops the grounds into the basket above the carafe. Quickly, the waiting water is poured into the
reservoir in back of the machine. Soon,
a thick stream of murky brown liquid is dispensed into the waiting carafe. We anxiously watch dribbles of coffee dancing
down through the spigot. As our morning
beverage brews, alertness begins to percolate deep inside us.
So
far, not a word has been uttered; words are not necessary for this process. Tearing my eyes from the constant dripping, I
pull down two mugs, warming them on the top of the DeLonghi coffee maker. Glancing down at the digital display, I note
that there will be time to enjoy my cafĂ© while working a crossword. “Creamer?” he asks. The first word of the day has been spoken.
A
sudden, load gurgling announces the end of the brewing. Desperately, we fill our glasses to the brim,
with just enough room for a bit of sweet cream.
I slowly stir my coffee, watching the rich color dissipate into a warm,
velvety milk chocolate. I can still hear
the hissing and boiling of the coffee pot as I take my first sip. I perch on the counter-top with my eyes closed
and hands wrapped tightly around the scalding ceramic mug, only to be nudged by
the cat reminding me it is time for her breakfast. Inhaling the steamy aroma of the coffee, I
unfold myself and finish up my morning routine with one hand constantly
gripping the gradually cooling cup.
When I am
finished, I return my cup to the dishwasher and he follows suit. Silently thanking the coffee pot, we leave the
kitchen, ready to begin our day.
Stepping out into the parking lot surrounding our building, he kisses me
and then we go our separate ways.
A few hours later,
I stand in line waiting for the barista to announce my order; I have come to pay
homage to it again.

















