Black Coffee Moments

I am fueled by coffee. Since I can remember, I have been a coffee drinker and as time has passed, my love has grown deeper and my beverage has grown darker. I have experienced, what seems to be an endless amount, of memories in coffee shops. Those memories have been shared with some of the most important people in my life. Going out for coffee was always a treasured time with my Dad – he is the writer, reader and wisest of wise who I have, and always will, squeeze every ounce of creativity from. I was always encouraged to write in a Moleskine – anything I wanted, as long as I was writing. I latched on to poetry, as he was a poet, and I will always remember rattling of my latest poem with huge excitement and embarrassment.

I cherish reading poetry from love books with my best friend, Claire. I don’t know why, but we always chose romantic poetry. We would sit in a buzzing Starbucks for hours, yet hear only ourselves. Photography was a huge passion of ours. We would carry our latest digital cameras everywhere – ones we had received just that past Christmas (it was always a Christmas request that sat at the top of our list, so needless to say, we got a new camera on every Christmas celebrated, what seems like, worlds apart). We would sit in that same Starbucks, after pages of love affairs, and take picture after picture of everything that walked/or sat within eye’s view. Our favorite setting was always macro! We have shared these special times, countless times, on two different continents. To this day, we e-mail one another selfies with our Starbucks mugs.

One of the most important memories from a coffee shop would have to be the first date I had with my husband. We had not known each other long, but as soon as he was ready to spend some alone time with me, a restaurant or the bar was the farthest thing from his mind. “Do you wanna grab a coffee with me sometime?” From one coffee lover to the other, we instantly fell in love (even though we didn’t know it yet). It would never be a Starbucks, it was always an independent whole in the wall. Starbucks was the last resort, always. (I am writing this in a Starbucks in Tucson, and he is playing Candy Crush… he seems to lose all inspiration in a Starbucks)…NONETHELESS… This man brought out all lost inspiration or creativity that I had almost given away. On every coffee date, he was armed with a Moleskine, camera and a book of poetry (his own). He carried these in what seemed to be a magician’s backpack. He would bring them out one by one until I had responded entirely to each one. This guy was carrying my soul in his backpack! Who woulda thought?

I am fueled by coffee. Inspirationally fueled.



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