I make a lot of jokes about coffee. I post a bit on Instagram and Facebook about it too… and I get lots of ‘helpful’ suggestions on how to cut my caffeine, how I should use Spark or the Pink Drink or Thrive.
And I ADORE that everyone is looking out for me!!
But I realized last year that the coffee isn’t really about the coffee for me. I actually require very little added energy. God blessed me with a joy and energy that surpasses caffeine.
However…I do like my morning java.
For me, coffee is a set of experiences combining aroma, taste and ritual that take me back immediately to times with my grandmother, my late uncle and my daddy.
They loved their coffee. And by making them a pot, or pouring them a cup, or simply sitting closeby while they had theirs…we shared the experience.
For example, countless times I’d be in the cab of my Uncle Clarence’s pickup as he’d drive through the Whataburger. [Yep, there is a LOT of Southern in that sentence!]
“Keery (that’s how he said my name) – hand me my mug.” And I’d have to reach to the floorboard (yes, the floor) to get the orange nickle coffee mug from rolling around so he could shake it out and hand it to the lady at the window for his nickle refill.
He had constant coffee breath, a cuppa always nearby and almost every picture I have of him, he’s holding a styrofoam cup or random mug.
Along with the coffee came a deep throaty laugh, a smile as big as Texas and so many moments I will never forget.
So, I won’t be giving up coffee. Ever. I can’t exchange it for a spark, a pink or a patch. It’s not about that.
It’s my time to be still and celebrate the past, enjoy the now and contemplate the future. And maybe, just maybe – someone will have a memory of special coffee moments with their sister, aunt or grandmother Carrie that they can’t wait to dwell on in the early moments of the day.