Dear Coffee

Dear Coffee,

It seems I have fallen in love with you over time. I'm not sure how I'd get through the mornings (or the late afternoons) without you by my side. Even now, as I sit at my desk and write, you are right beside me. You provide inspiration and energy - and warmth from the temperature of my apartment (side note to Mother Nature: you really had me fooled that it was finally Spring).

There was a time in my life when I doubted you. My father let me have my first sip of coffee at a very young age. I bothered him again and again to let me try it, wanting to know what the mysterious "adult" drink tasted like. I'm not sure what my face looked like at the time, but I'm sure it wasn't pleasant. Long story short, the coffee ended up on my father's shirt.

Then, many years later, I was surrounded by the walls of University. There, I tried you once again (a fancy caramel macchiato from Starbucks) and my life was changed. Complete, even. You helped me through countless hours of essay writing, locked up in the quiet study areas of the library. You probably deserve that degree more than I do.

Since finding you, my life has changed. Not only did you help me get my B.A., but it's because of you that I was able to get through teacher's college (I'm not sure how anyone can teach a group of teenagers without constantly sipping at caffeine). And now, while I work from home, you're the reason I wake up in the mornings and actually get things done.

No longer a picky coffee drinker, I will gladly drink black coffee straight from the coffee pot if that's what is necessary. (Even though soy cinnamon dolce lattes are delicious.)

Thanks buddy.