Coffee makes us severe, and grave, and philosophical.
— Jonathan Swift
This sweet-testing liquid is my second favourite followed by juices of any sort. I must admit, I am not a coffee person. Yet, the aroma never fails to seize my attention towards a hot cup of delicacy mixed with a bit of brown sugar and sometimes, a pack of crispy items to double the pleasure.
In recent times, it has been added in the menu of my usual evening snacks. Quite insignificant addition, but the person I often share the other cup makes it worthwhile. A wise man burdened with experiences of decades of life. A few sips and the story begins— stories that reflect on life, belief, and mutual interests.
Never did I enjoy a cup of coffee this much. It was all about finishing the cup in a few sips depending on the warmth and then moving on without thoughts.
Not anymore.
You cannot afford to overlook what an old wise man has to say about life. Especially when you have sailed your ship in a windy ocean not knowing where you might end up being anchored to.
As we meet in the evening, it all starts with greeting each other and then slowly we dive deep into our everyday lives; the happy moments, awful events, plans for the coming days and such. The conversation takes us to a utopian realm where our highly formal relationship starts to loosen up, forming an amicable juncture where we set the boundaries aside and keep unfolding the pages long unturned.
Like the first layer of a finely brewed coffee where the initial kick always rewires the nerve cells, our conversations bring forth the most exclusive of all events; repeatedly highlighting what is intended to be focused. The pupils get bigger, a grin on the face endorses the presence of enough caffeine in the blood, and the aroma lingering on the air shamelessly announces that it’s time to open up.
For some reason, I find it extremely intimidating. I fear sharing stories unheard by none but me. As I know the probable consequences, I slowly retreat like the hot coffee gradually but evidently, lose its appeal once it cools down.
While the cup empties, a new page is written in the book of life; narrating the subtle points where we fail as a citizen, a father, family persons, and human beings. Just the two cups; a few cents spent for a good cause on a nice evening— almost every day.
Who said lessons don’t come cheap?
