Coffee

I shuffle down the stairs in a sleepy haze.  The house is dark.  The sun hasn’t risen yet, and neither have Maddie or Katie.  The night light in the kitchen throws a warm glow over the room.  It’s chilly in the house, making me want to crawl back into bed and snuggle once again under the warmth of my blanket.

I press a button and the coffee machine whirs to life.  It’s not a long wiait, but it feels like hours.  Finally!  A steaming mug of coffee! 

I carry the warm mug in both hands as I begin my morning routine.  It’s never farther than an arm’s reach away as a fix my hair, pack my lunch.

The house begins to fill with light and warmth.  My coffee is almost gone.  And so, too, are my last remaining moments of quiet and solitude.  My day is about to begin, and I will be a mom, a teacher, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  But for now, with my coffee, I’m just… me.

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10 thoughts on “Coffee

  1. So many ways that people relate to what you wrote here… not only thinking about the time we get to ourselves but how we are expected to be so many different people all at the same time! I really connected to your piece. Love the last line as well… strong way to end 🙂

  2. I feel like a fly on the wall, spying on your world through your words. I love the quiet, dark beginning to the gradual light and stirrings of life at the end. Perfect!

  3. this is so simple and to the point! love it! i wish i could sometimes just get to the point… i feel like i get too wordy— in fact all of my teachers complained about being too wordy since my grammar school days. sigh. great piece!

  4. I love the mornings that I can actually sit down with a mug of coffee and enjoy it. But I also love when students walk into my class and say that it smells good in here (meaning of course the wonderful smell of my “good” coffee)!

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