My coffee tastes like a combination of all the roadside diners I have ever stopped at, of all the brief moments spent passing through a vacation, where strangers randomly gather to refuel, take bathroom breaks, and recheck their maps.
It is nowhere in particular, yet it is everywhere. The flavor stirs memories like cream blending into an endless shift of waitresses and gas station bells.
There is a time when we simply need to get out of the car and stretch, to move around and breath different air. Each sip of my morning coffee is like turning a page in life's diary. It is a flavorful journey strewn with moments and flashes of images, faces, and maybe a little sweetness.
1 comment:
It is like that, sometimes. However, my coffee is littered with granules of chores that need to be done and my grocery list:( Perhaps I shall switch brands!
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