Dear Coffee, my saviour.
Every morning I
wake up get woken up, and my first thought is of you. We never really had a solid relationship before now, it was a kind of on-off affair where I used you when I was a bit chilly or just needed a little kick up the rear end.
Those touchorous 5 minutes waiting for the kettle to boil almost destroy me, I just thankful it drowns out the sound of the fussy baby that just wants to change position or is attempting to suffocate himself with the blanket yet again. Everything is made better when I finally hear that click.
Those first few weeks I would have to have you right before bed knowing I would be greatful or the extra sugar pulsing through my veins when I’m jolted awake every hour. I take you with three sugars because trust me, I need that kick. It doesn’t mean I love you any less, I just need more.
Its getting closer to winter now so each morning I nurture you on my ice cold hands and feel your warmth slowly creeping all around my body.
During the day when I’m half asleep and failing at life you give me that little push to get up and start winning. To get up and get on with the laundry or washing up or endless hoovering of the crumbs that seem to follow the cheeky little toddler around all day.
Then Jack comes home from work wanting his first of many cups of tea (I apologise for using that awful word) he will consume throughout the evening giving me a great excuse to have you again.
This time I may hover a stroop waffle over you and watch as you melt and soften it down to be just as tasty, especially when dunked in you.
Some people love you, some people hate you, some people like you on occasion. But I need you.
Now I will leave you for those painful nighttime hours where I really, really, really could do with you there.
Until morning, where we meet again.