|I Romanticize Photography|
Coffee is not just a beverage for me. It is a memory. In fact, it is tied to all sorts of memories. My first memory of coffee is its smell. Mom would make it every now and then in the evenings even though both my parents usually preferred tea. The smell of coffee in the evenings meant laughter and cuddles and long conversations between them that made little sense to me. I just wanted to hop from one's lap to another and beg for a sip only to regret it a moment later because it was so bitter for my young taste-buds.
Coffee reminds me of 8:50am. Ten minutes before class and I just had to get that cup before I make a run for it. It was always 8:50am when I showed up at 6th Street Cafe with pleading eyes because I couldn't keep my act together to wake up earlier. First year of college.
Remember when Motorola Razr was the coolest phone ever? Yeah, I dropped it in a cup full of coffee.
Coffee also happened exactly at 2:20am. It was like an internal alarm clock during exams. It was my body's way of telling me that if I wanted to stay up any longer it wasn't going to happen without coffee.
Mom sometimes made coffee for me in the mornings. She knew I wanted it and I would spend so long to make it myself. So when I'll come downstairs, she'll have it ready to go in a traveler's mug. Of all the coffee I have ever had, my mother's is the most delicious.
I owe it to coffee to have written so much. If it weren't for the countless cups of delicious coffee, I wouldn't have written a single word. I would be so lifeless without coffee - devoid of so many wonderful memories. In this way, coffee is a lot like love. And because I believe in love, I believe in coffee too.