Coffee is my best friend. I love coffee. In fact I love her so much that I have worked in several coffee shops. I worked at Gloria Jean’s at Southgate mall (now closed.) That was my first time working at a coffee shop that is. Then I worked at Starbucks. This was when Starbucks was just coming out. I was straight hustling. I had just moved to Jersey City. (uh yah) I worked at the Starbucks at Hoboken. That’s kind of crazy since my Dad told me a lot of mob stories related to Hoboken. Then I worked at Starbucks in West Allis when I moved back to Wisconsin, sigh. It was the first drive in which I worked because I was fast. So, that’s my love affair of coffee gone astray at minimum wage most of the time. Coffee has been my best friend for a long time. She was never late, never stabbed me in the back or talked about me. On the contrary she was on time, often woke me up and smelled phenomenal. She sparked my “endorphins” to keep me happy.
Coffee was a staple in my home while growing up. I was introduced to her by my mother who liked her with cream and used to sit at the table holding her coffee cup and stirring the coffee with her metal spoon “tink, tink, tink.” It used to drive us all nuts.
Coffee gives me all the things I could ask for in a friendship. She lifts me up. She is strong and sweet when she needs to be. She is warm in the morning. No matter where I meet her there’s a feeling of comfort. She is robust and full of life. She’s been with me from the beginning, from Alabama to New Jersey, New York, West Allis and Wurzberg , Germany. Whether she is dark or light she brings me illumination in my heart and mind. She is always here and never leaves. She is family.
She was met with heavy cream in Germany, in New York, light and sweet. In the Army military issue, and nowadays Arabica and French Roast. Whether I met her with Sade or Metallica she was pleasant to be around.
Coffee has been abused and exploited yet still plugs on and let’s her heart be showered in love. She is loyal and beautiful to all that adore and admire her. I am so glad she is my friend.
So many people should take notes on how coffee as a friend should be. Her appearance is sometimes Blonde, French, or Blue Mountain. She is smooth, bitter and chocolate at times. She is authentic and robust.
The reason she has been such a good friend to me is because she is so much like me. She gets me. She does her best not to burn, hurt or maim me. It is a good partnership of love and respect.
Whether she is hot or cold she is somewhat dependable. Even though she does not speak, she is a comfort whether your heart is strong or sad.
I met coffee at about the age of sixteen and she’s been a staple. What I look for in a friend is kindness, loyalty, genuineness and strength. Coffee has that which is more than I can say for most people. Yet I still have faith.
Coffee is energetic, like me, most days. She centers me, she is a part of me. Coffee started a ritual with me and my mother and what a wonderful memory. On days where I feel unhappy or unmotivated the smell of coffee gets me going and often times makes me forget what I was sad about. Kind of like a friend would do.
So, in Starbucks, Gloria Jeans, loyalty and fragrance she was there through the good and bad. I have fond espresso bean memories, times making the best espresso shots (we used to time shots and they tasted better than the automated kind.)
Coffee was always a staple, warm, illumined, and in it for the long haul. She’s admired, revered and in the end she knows how to treat me. In this day and age, that is hard to come by.