It's been so many things. Through time and space. I don't always think about it, but I know this affair runs deep. My first memory of it was of dad drinking it, on cozy winter nights. It would have a lot of froth, and Beatles would always be playing in the background. For years later, every time I looked at coffee, Beatles would start playing in my head. Coffee had its own soundtrack. And the smell, oh the smell was heavenly - nothing more intoxicating than that cup, lying on the table in my dad's study with its own soundtrack, while he read from an old book. I wasn't allowed to drink coffee because "you are too young and it is an adult beverage" but sometimes, dad would give me a sip, and knowing fully well how awful it would taste, I'd fall for the offer every time, perhaps secretly hoping that it would taste better this time. But my baby taste-buds were not ready for it. I absolutely hated the taste of coffee! And I recall spending hours trying to figure out how something can smell so amazing yet taste so horrid.
My dad would be utterly amused.
It wasn't until the first year of college that I really started drinking it. Everyday on my way to class at exactly 8:50am, I would walk into the campus coffee shop, and Jeremy would know what to make. That cup was warm in the winters and soothing in the summers. Coffee kept me awake in class, gave me company through some very dark nights and many cheery afternoons. It has never been just a drink, but an experience. It's Beatles and my father's study. It's loneliness through the woods, it's happiness in the mornings, it's a reason to take a walk, and coffee is also love. Knowing fully well that I would never say no, Dylan still asks me questions like, Do you want some coffee? Why don't we go to a coffee shop? Let me make you some coffee? Will coffee make you feel better? I found a new coffee shop, do you want to check it out? And he'll make it, and he'll take me, and he'll taste it, and he'll give funny names to all the different types of coffee I like.
Perhaps I'll have a study one day and I will read, old, utterly complicated books late at night and listen to the Beatles, and my coffee would taste horrid to someone else.
