i didn't know before coming here that no one drinks coffee.
i do drink coffee.
yes, i am a coffee drinker.
it was nearly a year ago that i really fell in love with the stuff.
at a little cafe across from a little house in the little area of sydney known as alexandria.
mochas and lattes. froth and foam. the warm cup in a chilled hand. there was none of the american nonsense of black coffee--it just didn't exist. and each coffee shop was its own. a unique adventure unto itself. nothing streamlined.
and so it was love. and so it went. and so i-was-in-love. with the morning trek across the street and the afternoon respite--sunning in the cool winter air, coffee in one hand, a book in the other.
and then i got here.
and no one drinks coffee.
and i spent a lot of time wondering if perhaps i shouldn't drink coffee. and as all catholics do i thought on the thing waiting for an appropriate amount of guilt to arise and lead me to an answer. too much guilt? let it go. not too much? carry on. and then i realized there was no guilt to be seen or felt or had. coffee is not my vice but my choice.
and so i found a lovely little coffee shop here, finagled a bike from a friend, and each morning i wend and wind through the neighborhoods just off of center street as i slowly and surely make my way to my iced-coffee haven.
it's me and a gang of bikers (motorbikes, that is) and a gypsy of a family (i think) and a whole host of assorted characters. the funny thing is, i'm probably the one who looks out of place.
i knew coming here would be hard. it would be a challenge. but that little voice inside was so sure and so calm and so i allowed it to lead--that voice that promised oh-so-good-things.
but at this moment in time i'm wondering where the heck that voice got the nerve because i can't see those oh-so-good-things. i just see the return of ned. of old habits and older fears. the return of a bloated face and a too-tight-pair-of-jeans.
for a month now i've tried to no avail to climb from this little hole that i've dug.
but today i'm gonna get myself a coffee maker. at wal-mart. or some such. because much as i like the morning bike ride to the coffee shop and much as i'll keep doing it, i wanna wake to the smell of coffee brewing. i want a hold a warm mug. and give thanks over it. and i want that to be the very first thing i do all day. before i mount a bike. before i marvel at all the eclectic houses. before i join the misfits of utah county, i wanna break a few rules in my own little room.
because there is so much instability here. so much uncertainty. and ned really loves those things. and if all it takes is one cup of my own renegade mocha to center me a little, then i'm gonna take it. and thank God for the little lifeboat that it is.
(it should be noted that i have
the utmost respect for people
who choose not to drink
coffee for whatever reason,
religious or not.)