My Second Love

Lawrence is my first love. Coffee is my second.

I'm obviously not the only coffee lover in the world, but I'm probably among the least sophisticated of the group. Christoph Niemann gets to tell his coffee love story on an NYTimes.com blog site through coffee-on-napkin art (from which I stoke the picture above). I humbly share with you my much simpler and simply-presented coffee love story.

Every morning, I make the coffee for Lawrence and me. I grind the beans til they are not too big anymore, but not too small either. Sometimes I feel I have a sixth sense for just the right amount of grinding to maximize the flavor from the beans. I set the drip (eek! don't judge) coffee maker to go and after 10 minutes, my Mr. Coffee, beeps telling me the coffee's ready. The pot's full of brew and I love the way its aroma fills our whole apartment.

I then briskly walk the 3/10 of a mile from my apartment to the bus stop (since I'm almost always running late), green travel coffee mug in hand. On autumn and winter mornings, I like feeling the warmth of the coffee mug against my cold, dry hands. It reminds me that I have the prize of the first sip once I get on the M2 shuttle to school.

That first sip that I take from my green travel mug is perhaps my most peaceful and favorite part of the day. Just as the bus is crossing the Mass Ave bridge, I usually peer out the left, long window. I see the morning sun just creeping up over the Boston skyline. And I take that first sip. It warms my mouth, then my throat, and then the whole way down my esophagus before it enters my stomach. I am enlivened. I'm ready to go for the day.