Morning Rituals

Coffee, I used to smirk at it. I don't need you, I would say. You're only for people with no sense of time and sleep. You're only acceptable when you're mixed in ice cream, in pastries, and smoothies (okay, I meant frappuccinos). Coffee dates were never really coffee dates because I would rest in tea, Chamomile, please

And now, I'm still not a coffee addict. But I look for it, sometimes. Which is something I thought would never, ever happen. 

It all started when I would look up from my breakfast plate and see my husband drinking coffee. Again, just like he did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Why are you so addicted, I asked him. It starts my day, he answered, why don't you just try it? I shrugged.

But there's one thing I couldn't escape from: the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Which is basically Heaven in a waft, of course. It's the only thing I love about it and as it filled the air of our home every single morning, I secretly enjoyed it. It brought me back to that café in Brooklyn, that conversation in a pastry shop, that dating ritual of buying my husband a cappuccino from Toby's Estate before he brought me home. 

I couldn't resist it anymore. One morning, as my husband got up from the table to make coffee for himself, I said, 'May I have one, too, please?' He smiled, kind of stupefied, and said, 'Really? Wow, okay!' And as he set the cup beside me and sprinkled some ground cinnamon into it, he said, 'Enjoy!' The first sips were bitter and then they became better, and better. 

Things are only things until stories are attached to them and they become symbols. Coffee is not just a drink. It's that which bonds us, simply but surely, before he leaves for work. It's an acquired marriage habit that makes me think about us in the coffee section and buy more Nescafé Dolce Gusto capsules. Mostly for him, some for me. These acquired marriage habits are peppered everywhere, every time, pushing old habits out to make space for new ones. Like when we plop on the couch to watch Netflix for the night, when we alternate dish-washing, when we read our own books side by side.Or when we buy new flowers to replace the ones that wilted, get dressed for gym day, or take one side of the bed to fix up.  

A few months ago, this was all new. Now, it's all ours, ingrained in us, entwined in our marriage, carving our life. These are the little moments they speak of, just some of the ones that make me and my husband weave a singular story together. 

Let's sip to that.