There’s something soothing about a cup of coffee.
Growing up, I always snuck a few sips of my dad’s Vietnamese iced coffee on Sunday mornings. In high school, I used it as the drug it meant to be so I could to stay awake for class and work. College was the continuation of my addiction, only I turned to its pure form. It wasn’t until 6 weeks on my first job post college, when I received my 9 month layoff notice, that coffee became a comfort factor for me.
Being a teacher at Quigley, I took advantage of the early end of the work day and frequented the local coffee shop at the end of my block. I would nurse a large long black or a double espresso, while sitting on the sidewalk patio, reading Harry Potter as the sun set before me. My depression and anxiety levels were high, but those couple of hours each day on that corner made me forget about my worries.
Since then, I’ve always saw coffee as my comfort drink. Yes, it is weird that I use a stimulant instead of alcohol to calm myself down. But it’s those minutes and hours that tics away while having that one, two or dear God, three cups of coffee, that I’m the most relaxed and calm.
Lately, I’ve felt the need to visit the local coffee shop more often. For what it’s worth, I miss these slow sips of happiness.