Hellozie, my blogger people, as you know I am moving my posts from my branch blogs into one space. Here is one more from my coffee blog...
It all started with a cup of creamy, sugar free cup of foam covered coffee under a tree. The only disadvantage of being part of a women’s college is that these moments are completely different in a co-ed university when you are a straight person. The weather was pleasant, still early hours when it feels like you just slipped out of bed so you can accustom yourself to the day. Those hours felt like I should have been attending a class but here I was instead delaying it so I could savour a cup. I had not just one that day or even the entire weekend, I had several cups. It was like those unplanned romantic moments which you wish would repeat themselves.
The second time it was a different cup, another shop, a different maker, it was plain white. The coffee had almost gone cold, because by the time it reached my previously holding a pen hand that been serving as an accomplice to my distant mind, the temperature had dropped. A layer of brown cream had settled thus indicating the urgency. I needed to consume it right away, so I could wake up. Coffee knows best, like a better half, that one push or fix you need to get your cogs moving. That finger which pushes all the right buttons.
Under the tree
For the third time, I was back under the tree. A very mundane setting, it was not a deliberate setting. It was not a cafe specialised in brewing neither was it a kitchen that had churned out too many cups in hours of dire need. The location was just there, like it has always been, waiting to serve as a memorable location in somebody’s life. It most certainly had in mine, I thought as I dipped a butter cookie into my still hot printed paper cup of ambrosia. I looked up and saw the clear blue skies, the warm breeze, the green leaves and sensed its presence. Madras was there, all around me, filling the air with an aroma I love most; getting the heat, the flavour and the beauty all right so my weekend went from good to better.
Very slowly warming up to me, embracing me and returning my adoration, shy and consistent in small amounts. As if it were testing the waters, apprehensive but willing to try nonetheless; on the rare occasion, possessing me if anyone or anything else were to begin crossing my mind. Such was the love.
Finally, my weekend ended with a cold and even creamier cup. A finish so we could cool of the simmering love that had brewed between us. Almost like a finish to our weekend together. This time it was in the luxury of air conditioning and plush velvet seats. In a paper cup, pulled straight out of the fridge as if waiting for me, for the right moment when I would arrive, winding down to exactly here.
Finished it right down to the last lick of foam
This little escape brought me to a conclusion that Valentine’s Day is significant and worth commemoration after all. What sets it apart from anniversaries is that it allows for new lovers, soon to be couples to get to know each other, to coax out admiration, shy confessions and reach out to each other. No need to celebrate a period of togetherness, no need for a pre qualifier round, just a day to celebrate the emotion, not the attachment or to win some sort of medal or assurance. This was the case with Madras and me. Our love had brewed over several cups of coffee.