Oh, For the Love of Coffee!

Growing up, I never understood why people love hot beverages.

Love is a particularly strong word as I didn’t even know why they like them. I thought it was weird that coffee shops and tea houses even existed. Or at least, I didn’t understand why coffee and tea were the main attractions.

As a child, when I wanted a drink, I was already dying of thirst. When I ate, I was starving. And when I needed to go potty, sometimes I already went.

I lacked both patience and foresight. My feelings and needs were overwhelmingly immediate.

I didn’t play the waiting game; the waiting game played me.

Hot drinks were an enigma to me — an alien concept that somehow made its way into our culture. I’ve seared my lips on more porcelain than I can remember. But enough to develop an instinctual distaste for a hot brew.

The older generations in my family, however, love a good cup of tea. Maybe even a bad one. When I turned 9 or 10 years old, I got roped into what seemed like a lifetime of tea service.

When someone in the family shouted “Can I get a tea please?!” from the other room, I would rush into the kitchen to put the kettle on. I made the tea as fast as I could. I even put the milk in first sometimes…forgive me.

Despite recurring complaints on how bland the tea was, my relatives still drank it down with ear-to-ear smiles. They enjoyed it even if it wasn’t for the taste. They seemed to enjoy bonding and laughing at my inability to make a decent cup.

I never took it personally, I just didn’t understand why they drank it.

Fast forward a dozen years or so, and I only start to get it.

It took a full-time job to turn me into a regular coffee drinker. Blurry-eyed from late nights at the office, I found myself reaching for something that could give me a boost in the mornings, afternoons, and the occasional evening. Energy drinks seemed too juvenile a choice for the workplace so I opted for coffee.

Coffee breaks were a welcome respite from the busy workday and an opportunity to strike up some casual conversation with colleagues. The brief liberation from work that coffee provided was so profound that the association has stuck with me long after I left formal employment.

It’s probably why I feel such a sense of relief every time I sit down for one.

For a while, I depended on coffee to regulate my energy levels and certain movements which shall not be named. But eventually, those effects dulled as my body adjusted.

But I continue to drink coffee even when I don’t need the boost. I’ve learned to love it in all its variations.

Sure, I have some preferences but it doesn’t make much of a difference. I enjoy it white or black, foamed or flat, espresso or americano, it doesn’t matter.

More than this, when I visit relatives, I enjoy the novelty of shouting “Can I have a coffee please?!” from the other room. As my successors serve me a cup of hot brew with both hands (a sign of respect), I’ve learned that I even like it bland.

It’s remarkable how poorly children make coffee. Ha!

As trivial as my opinion of hot beverages was when I was younger, it was one I held strongly for many years. As the opinion changed over time, it was clear that many other notions I held onto, however serious or trivial, also changed.

Nothing stays the same forever — not even you.

So how about another cup of coffee?

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