Romance of Coffee

Hi there,

There are things I really enjoy doing and I have long wondered why. One of them is reading a good book that takes me for a few hours away from the reality of daily life. Not that I don’t enjoy my life or the people around me. It is a quiet whisper I enjoy the most. Like a long walk along the beach, with the salt water at my feet while a soft breeze blows by during the fall when the tourist are leaving my little town.

The first couple of months after school had started I would take my children to the beach after school. We’d stop at home change cloths and off to the beach, throwing the after school routine away. We’d grab a quick snack get our towels, sandals and head to the local beach where it was quiet. The water warm, the sun hot and the breeze soft, gentle. While my children would swim, surf, and just have a good time I would sometimes sit and reflect on how beautiful life is. Like prayer an intimate and personal part of life so are those moments. 

Romantic, idelic and filled with happiness. Listen to the children’s laughter, their screams of joy as for a moment the reality of summers end was gone. For that moment they were enjoying the freedom one only feels when one is a child. The freedom to spread ones wings and fly in the daily life provided. The walk with me during this time. I recall the treasure hunts on the beach of toys that where left behind from those that carried to many, the waves send them back to shore. Some seasons we would gather them up and donate them, other seasons there wasn’t anything to donate. It is these moments when one is spent, that thanksgiving is felt.

Is there romance in a cup of coffee? I asked often. I have never been one of those addicted to Starbucks, Peet’s, Tea Houses. I do on occasion stop at the local coffee shop and purchase a cup. Sit and draw or paint. The walks along the beach stopped. The fall is not here yet this year. The lives of ones young children grow up into the reality of adulthood. The needs and wants of the family changes. Mom’s get older. Dads get older. Now the hand of God changed. From taking care of my own children and savoring the long slow drink of a romantic coffee up to watching my own mom get older. Helping when she allows it. Her mind and the mind of her husband not all there, yet not willing to let me be myself and help.

So I sit and wait in the bedroom for the time to start again the things that I love, I enjoy. I wait. I now ask for prayer from those that asked of me. Who will save me from the reality before me...

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