A Cup Of Coffee

Updated: Mar 20

It was a few mornings ago when I was sleeping in that the phone started chirping at me relentlessly for some reason.

The drapes were drawn tight. It was still dark as a ray of a hampered silver moonlight crept through the one open crack upon my old lost soul.

I picked up the phone without so much even a look see as to who it was and slid my finger across something similar to a sunrise and answered it.

“This better be important,” I said with no sense of cordialness while clearing the tiredness out of my throat.

“Who invented the telephone?” Some soft, pleasing and distinct sounding woman on the other end asked me.

Before I could hang up the phone, an anxious voice inside my head escaped from my mouth like a kid had just let go of a balloon and I answered, “Alexander Graham Bell”

“Congratulations, you just won a brand new typewriter,” the woman said.

"Who are you and what the hell is going on here?” I asked.

“No one you know that well just yet, this is merely a made up contest,” she said. “And you just won a brand new fully functioning typewriter altogether.”

“I already have a well-seasoned typewriter,” I spat back a little confused.

“Well, how would you feel about an ending to your neverending love story?" She asked without skipping a heartbeat.

“As a matter of fact ma'am, the best love stories never end,” I politely snapped back.

“Is there anything else you might like then?” She asked with a persistence that could’ve poked any dragon awake from the place in which it hibernates.

She continued lightheartedly, "Well sir, have you thought about extending your car warranty lately?"

“Lord have mercy, now this is getting out of hand." I laughed with apprehension. "I would really appreciate some peace and quiet, and a cup of coffee, good bye for the time being,” I said as I tried to pull the phone away from my mind.

“Wait, don’t hang up on me yet,” she pleaded from the void of being lost in translation.

"Can I have some coffee and gather my wits about me this morning before being drilled with anymore questions?” I asked her emphatically.

“Yes sir, but only if you tell me what you’d like for a consolation prize, that way I can put it in the mail for you and it'll be there before you wake up."

"How about you answer a question for me ma'am?" I asked.

"I'm all ears kind sir."

"Who invented inspiration?"

"Oh that's a good one you wise ass," she spoke before continuing. "Are you sure there's nothing I can put in the mail for you for the lighthearted confusion I've caused you this morning?"

“If it's any consolation, I’d rather not be asked to make any more decisions this fine and dandy morning before I’ve had a cup of coffee. Maybe even two. It’s 6:30 for Christ’s sake.” I slid my finger the opposite way across the sunrise of her smile without even thinking twice about it.

I lay their thinking for a minute about how I don’t really want to get out of bed, but I have to piss something fierce. Upon returning from taking a piss, I see a notification of a direct message from a newborn lover attached to the tiny phosphorous lit screen like a love letter left on my front door.

I don't think much of it. It’s way too early to think about such heartwarming things this delightful March morning. Hell, it was enough for me to get up and simply take a piss. I crawl in bed and fall back fast asleep with my dreams.

In the dream I was standing on a mountain in some cosmic wilderness staring at Saturn’s rings just before dawn. There was a valley below me with aesthetically placed oil wick lanterns burning all over the place. Everything was buried knee deep in snow. There was a cabin that stood out in shadows, a ribbon of blue smoke poured out from it into a pastel sky from its old brick chimney. There were a few horses being saddled up. There looked to be something like a film crew setting up all sorts of equipment for a scene they are about to shoot for a movie I would assume. There were cameras placed intricately for composition and capturing the perfect light. Morning church bells began ringing with a gentle melody amongst the cawing of crows as a woman dressed in all black slowly traipsed her way through the snow in my direction. The bells became louder with each sway of her hips. More frequent, more deliberate, more alarming. Finally, they startled my ass wide awake from the depths of such a wild, warm, and comforting dream.

I sat up, slid my finger back across a sunrise to turn the damn alarm off.

Thoughts begin again. It’s 7:40 in the morning. The darkness had turned to light, and sunshine was stacking up fast.

What do the kid and I have planned for today again I ask myself? And what should we have for breakfast?"

I guess I should make my bed before thinking about such things. I think about the polite message I received earlier.

I read it while making my bed. It’s from an amazing woman who I just met.

The message seemed like a kind of apology of sorts for creating such a silly scene so damn early in the morning, but that she didn’t realize what time it was in Lake Tahoe, and that she hoped I loved the gift she sent me. It was a sweet, meaningful, very thoughtful gesture and made me grin my signature shit eating grin.

But I need some damn coffee first before moving forward..

I drifted my sleepy ass all the way into the kitchen with a long winded yawn and began my daily routine of waking up by pressing the button with my ink stained thumb on the coffee maker.

As the coffee started to drip, I turned my focus towards the warming thoughts that were percolating throughout the stillness of my mind.

I often think that sometimes life is simply a matter of coffee and whatever intimate details the perfect cup of coffee can afford. I remember something inspirational that I once read about about coffee. The thing said that coffee is actually really good for your artistic health, because it creatively stimulates all the senses rather quickly.

I mean if I think about it without much thought, when I open up a fresh bag of coffee beans, pour them into the grinder, the smell and sound alone excites me beyond the brink of my own preconceived creative boundaries. Then comes the delicate bubbling drip, and at the sight of the coffee pot filling up, my creative juices start to flow with more fluidity. Next comes the touch of a warm wake up call as I pour the caffeinated concoction into my new favorite and most trusted year of the dragon mug. The warmth from the mug injects new life into my clinched hands around it, which sends a radiantly thermal vibration throughout my entire being. And at last, I add a little bit of milk and honey to it, and it tastes perfect just like her, the harmonious balance of savory sweetness, a little thick and creamy, and never too bitter, or leaving me feeling all jittery.

I savor the first sip coffee in the silence of my heart and soul, while the clock ticks away at the time.

Coffee in hand and creative juices flowing, i cleaned up the kitchen and get breakfast prepped and ready to go. Somehow I subconsciously made my way to my desk with a blank sheet of paper and a fine point blue fountain pen right in front of me. It’s 8:11 in the morning.

I put down my new favorite handcrafted mug adorned with a dragon, the steam rising from it like a ribbon of blue smoke.

For a while I just sat there staring off into a void, slowly twirling my pen—and the morning away—around in a spiral fashion, studying the intricate details of my thoughts and how to spell them out on the blank sheet of paper in front of me.

The sheet of paper makes me think of a valley covered in a blanket of fresh snow tucked in between two rigid peaks, like something one would see in a movie. This image alone helped my mind relax as I began by stretching my heart out in a brand new dimension. Then the damn phone rang again.

I slid my finger across her smile and greeted her with a vibrant salutation this time around, "good morning sunshine."

"It's me again Mr. Love, I have one more silly question for you." Her voice much softer yet nervous sounding now.

"Shoot." I said.

"What's the most dangerous and beautiful weapon in the world?"

"That's easy dragon bait. It's a blank sheet of paper, maybe a cup of coffee, and last but never least, love."