Coffee

There is something almost ritualistic about making coffee. One step rushed or forgotten, one scoop too heavy or light, and nothing is the same. When I was younger and kid-less, I would start my day off with a smoke and a cup of coffee. There was something comforting in waking up with the silence of the morning and just being. My mornings now are filled with the noise of boys playing legos and all of us heading off to school, but I cherish the days that J leaves a fresh cup of coffee for me before he fills his Thermos for work.

J and I actually started our path together over a cup of coffee in a greasy spoon joint. I had come to a point in my life where things were not working the way they should. I had lost my place to stay the day before J and I ran into each other. I spent the night at my cousin's place, and instead of going to church with them, I decided to go for a drive. It was cold and gray outside with a nasty mix of rain and snow spitting from the sky. I remember feeling so lost that day. I had strayed from who I wanted to be, and no one seemed close. I was deep in the middle of a poor me moment, when I decided I'd go see a friend at her work. I looked horrible. My eyes showed signs of crying through the night, I slept in my clothes, and I had to leave where I was staying quickly, so there was no thought of a toothbrush. I was (as my 19yr old self would have said) "looking pretty hit". Shell (my friend) worked at an old restaurant in town, so I figured I'd have a cup of coffee, continue to feel sorry for myself, and figure out how in the world I could get a shower and my stuff. But, there were other plans set in motion that day that would change my life forever.

As I walked in, I saw a guy sitting to the right of the counter. I made sure I went to the left - far to the left. Shell came by to see me and promised to come back to grab me a cup of coffee. As she walked away, I heard a voice from my right say, "I'll get one for you." "Crap" I thought, "Crappity crap". Out of all days, I have to run into someone helpful. But he spoke of coffee. How could I resist? Mr. Helpful was walking around the counter at this point.
"I'm a regular, so I just grab my own coffee. Want me to get some for you?"

I was able to muster out a "Sure. Thanks" all the while freaking out inside because this meant I had to face Mr. Helpful. And *I* looked worn - which didn't mean I was interested in what Mr.Helpful thought of me, but you see, in my poor me moment, I forgot one of my major rules in life: Never leave the house looking bad because it will be at that point, you run into someone you know or be in a position where you should look at least half way put together. A recurring image of my grandmother as she stood looking in a mirror by her dining room table making sure her lipstick was perfect and her hair done before she left to go anywhere invaded my brain.

"Cream?"

"Uh..."

*oh my goodness..at least LOOK at the man*

"Yes.Thanks."

I thought I was in the clear as he walked back to his stool until he said, "You're Dana's sister, right?"

Crap.