I am not a coffee drinker. My go-to hot drink is tea-Earl Grey or a Breakfast Blend- with milk and a small spoonful of sugar. Every day I look forward to sitting down with my cup and the scent of morning rising from the steaming surface. There’s nothing like that first sip swimming over your tongue and trickling down your parched throat-the morning oasis after the night’s desert.
But then, Big Son took a vacation to Ann Arbor and Ohio in early June and he came back with a new-found love for French Vanilla coffee. This led to a request from him for some of his own. I traipsed to the store but wasn’t sure of the brand he wanted so I picked Folgers French Vanilla and this box of Folgers French Vanilla Cappuccino. I brought them home and *parenting win* I got it right with the first one, not the cappuccino but he gamely tried it and liked it. BUT THEN…I got a whiff of it. I swear the scent followed me all over the house for the rest of the day and would not leave me alone. It broke me down. Ok, I thought, I’ll give it a go. And I did…
I now have two boxes of Folgers French Vanilla Cappuccino sitting next to my kettle and teapot.
And I wrote a poem about it. (So shameless.)
I may need professional help.
What’s your favorite morning wake-up drink?
“The Best Part of Waking Up”
By Jesi Scott
It’s the anticipation of that first sip,
-The prelude to the sun rising in my blood
awakening bones, sinews, and muscles-
that forces my shuffling feet and groggy yawns
into the kitchen to begin my daily routine with my elixir of life
-water poured into the kettle put on the heating-up burner
while my cup waits, beseeching me for the treasure that’s coming-
My sleep-fogged brain refuses to acknowledge my existence for as we
wait for the high-pitched signal that beckons my attention
-pour the freaked out screaming kettle so it will shut up-
And now we wait longer
-the comforting “good morning” scent teases my taste buds-
for that just-right moment when the rich, dark liquid will
be hot-enough-without-tongue-scalding-blistering perfect
Steam rises from my cup as I lift it carefully
-don’t spill a single precious drop;
that home-in-mug aroma nearly makes me faint-
Gently, oh so delicately, I tease the cup edge to my lips
testing the waters before diving in
-the merest sip slips over my tongue-