The last coffee

By the simple fact of living our life positively, without letting problems affect us or leave us with major scars, we are rebels. But to live each day knowing that it does not belong to us, that at any moment it will simply cease to be for us, is a matter of being brave and triumphant.

I have always thought about what my death will be like but I don't give much thought to it, since it is something that is obviously out of my reach but who is not curious about this; our analytical and curious nature leads us to imagine, to visualize, even to long for how we would like that end to be, so if it were within my decision to plan my last day it would be an ordinary day. I would avoid or try at all costs to cry; I would simply dedicate it to giving thanks. As the world will continue to turn then I would get up a little earlier and set up my pot of water to prepare the elixir of the gods, in the best way I know how, the traditional way, letting it boil and with a strainer to get the most out of each grain. I would invite my husband to share with me; I would enjoy that divine aroma that I love so much and that takes me to remember the best moments of my life in which it has never failed.

I would talk to my husband since I have always been one of few but concrete words and I would mention the sweetest moments of our life together. I would make mention of how we must move on despite the bad times this is and will always be easy to say but how hard it is to apply so I would drink more than one cup of coffee and also listen with all the attention he deserves. After this, I would raise my gaze to the sky to be thankful and grateful for everything.