ESPRESSO MY LIFE

Words, I’ve had a crush on them all my life, but coffee was my first love. It started slow, in tiny increments. My grandma would let me have espresso sized cups half-full of coffee (the other half I would fill with sugar and cream in that order). When we moved to Virginia, coffee kept me warm on all those bitter cold winter nights. I would curl up with a hot mug and a good book for hours. Slowly, I’ve become so dependent on my cup of java joe that I could not leave the house in the morning with out sipping down a mug or two. Then three, and soon I was moving onto a stronger version. Espresso.

I remember, very specifically, my first espresso drink. Actually, it coincides with my first Starbucks visit. What a memorable experience.

The first thing I distinctly remember was the smell. That amazing, seizing, aroma of espresso and steamed milk! Then, when I got to the register, I was completely overwhelmed. The incomprehensible jumble of different menu items was bewildering. So I ordered a latte, which I probable pronounced wrong. A scrawling conversation was written on the walls. I tried to read the whole thing once but the jumbled sentences verged on poetry and lost me immediately. I love the city and the busy down town setting only enhanced my awe.

No one experience since then has ever been as original.