A Girl and Her Coffee

When I was eighteen years old and a freshman at Shepherd College (now Shepherd University), a friend introduced me to cappuccino. Until this point I’d never had more than a sip of coffee, usually my dad’s and he drank it straight black with no cream or sugar.

Each mouthful of the exotic elixir titillated my taste buds, sending a jolt of caffeine into my system and allowing me to sleep less, a fact which left more time for creating art…and other college freshman shenanigans. It didn’t take long for me to get addicted.

That summer, while my friends prepared to return to school for their sophomore year, I moved into the next state with a roommate who would later serve as Maid of Honor at my wedding. Our budget was tight and coffee was a luxury. She convinced her parents, who loved me like I was one of their own, to buy me an espresso machine for Christmas.

Both she and her parents have sadly passed on beyond this life. I still have the milk pitcher from that machine; it holds an assortment of pens, pencils, and such on the bookcase behind my desk chair.

I’ve come a long way since then. Now my coffee brews one cup at a time in a Keurig – an essential for any writer who may happen to also be a coffee enthusiast. I limit my intake to two cups a day and the rest of the time revert to unsweetened tea or water.

What’s your weakness? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger? Let’s talk about it in the comments. (But BRB, I need a refill!)

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