There's little I love more than drinking a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. The steaming aroma that, even as child, seemed so delightful even if the taste was horrible. The warmth radiating into my hands. Taking slow sips with the perfect blend of full-fat cream mixed into it.
Most people know about the power of sensory memory. A song can take you back to a moment etched in time. I heard somewhere that smell is one of the most powerful. I swear I smell something on certain days and I immediately think of my summer in Australia. I have no idea what it is - but it's happened many times.
Coffee drinking on Saturday mornings takes me back through the past 7ish years. Sitting in my first house with my three housemates. The decor and furniture of our rented home was that of a grandmother, not 3 twenty-something young women. Sitting in a tiny apartment in a new city that I shared with a dear friend. We'd extend our morning coffee ritual until the early afternoon sometimes. We'd talk and sip, talk and sip some more. I moved again and this time, I had a balcony. I'd watch the sun rise those mornings and the joggers on the sidewalk below. Morning air has such a distinct smell and I'd breath that in with the aroma of coffee. I felt so blessed.
I've moved several times since then. The mugs, the house, the people might be different. But the ritual remains. Silence, coffee, thinking.
