Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I must profess my love.
He is my soul mate, my spirit guide. I wake up in the morning and he is always there. There is never a note on the pillow, "Sorry, Had to get up early, talk to you later." He does not leave his dirty boxers on the floor in a pile. He does not use my razor to shave. He never leaves toothpaste scum in the sink. Sometimes he leaves behind a little mess on the kitchen counter, but it is only because he knows I like to be reminded that he was there.
When I am sad, he cheers me up. When I am empty, he fills me. When I am happy, he only adds to my excitement. He gets me through hard days at work, and pulls me out of bed in the early morning with a warm embrace. He works with me through thick and thin, always just sitting there, waiting for me. He never complains. Some days he is a little bitter, but always finishes with a hint of sweetness. He is excellent to share a cigarette with.
He often reminds me of the days when I needed him most. The days when I was running on fumes, an hour of sleep here or there, lessons to prepare for, papers to write. Who always had my back? He did. Who met me early in the morning, at lunch, and again at 3:00 every single afternoon to keep me going? He did.
He lets me cry into him. He lets me laugh and jostle him around. He lets me sit silently, fuming or just thinking. We never argue. His usual silence is an anchor that I hold onto very dearly.
People try to tell me we spend too much time together. They tell me I am addicted to him, that I am only hurting myself the longer I stay with him. But they are all wrong. They don't understand. People fear his darkness, his intensity and complexity. Not me. I know it comes naturally to him, that it is not an act. Me and him, we're on the same wave.
When I distance myself from him, I become weak. My world becomes dimmer, emptier, sadder, and achier. And I know he is just there, waiting for me. So I always run back, full of sorrow that I would ever think of leaving him.
I like him because he is strong, and I have made him that way. After years of trial and error, we have come to understand how to make every day perfect:
8 scoops, fresh ground, for 6 cups.
Oh, Coffee. How I love thee.