It’s been a while

It’s been a while.
Things came up and made me forget that I liked to hang out here. 
That it made me feel like me.
Going to Eroticon 2018 in a week or so. So I went back to places I felt safe to have a little explore. Now I’ve missed the deadline for this week, but this is a Wicked Wednesday prompt…because that has always felt like a good place to start. 
WickedWednesday

Peruvian Mocha Limu. Dark and dirty with a hidden sweetness.
Just bitter enough to be challenging, smooth enough to drink more than one cup.

An expresso quickie to set you off with a bang. A long latte
with caramel syrup wrapping me up like a feather duvet.

I do have moments of coffee infidelity.

Sometimes I crave a good hard Javan hand roast.  

It’s all about finding the right coffee for you and more
than that, its mixing it the right way. Taking care and time over the preparation
and not just accepting what someone else thought you might want to drink. Asking
for what you want.

Good coffee though, takes effort. I’d stopped requesting
coffee. Stopped making it for myself. There was never really time and you don’t
die from a lack of coffee.

The cafetiere had gone back in the cupboard. The special cups
were put away out of reach. I didn’t bother. And I didn’t miss it. After all I
had tea.

I’m not knocking tea. Socially, I feel it’s easier just to
go along with it when it’s offered. It’s warm and wet and will do.

But it’s not something I love.

I don’t wake up in the morning craving a cup of tea. And I’d
forgotten how good coffee could be.

Until today.

I checked twitter for the first time in months and there was
Rebel, daring me to think about coffee.

And I remembered the smoky power charging through my veins,
making my heart beat that little bit faster, my mouth water for the taste.

The matt glory of the beans. The fullness of the aroma as
they are ground, changing with an exciting moist earthiness through brewing. I
can smell the bitter cocoa promise hidden in the depths. Chase it.

I want to drink it raw. Black. Powerful. Scalding. Want to
drown in a cream filled mug topped with foam and crunchy brown sugar.

All of it.

Now.

It’s scary. Suddenly remembering means I had forgotten. De-prioritised.

I don’t want that.

I create a space for the cafetiere on the counter top. Move
the cups down a shelf so I can see them.

Let the scent tease through the house.

In case anyone else needs reminding they like coffee too. 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *