Those who know me, know coffee and I are nearly inseparable. This cup was particularly delicious thanks to a Cinnabon mini.

As it has, so many mornings, I laughed to see my reflection at the bottom of the cup as the last sip ….of this cup…was to be consumed. It occurred to me how often I seek looking outward. I remember reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace in high school.  Other than the book’s weight, I remember only one line – “He was in a hurry to get to where he was not.” The quote walks comfortably with James Joyce’s line, “Mr. Duffy lived a short distance from his body.”

I may enjoy coffee’s taste. The warmth of the cup I cradle in my hands soothes my arthritic hands. Memories, as a pre-teen, of my grandmother gifting my first cup always rise with the steam. So many reasons to enjoy coffee. But, as with anything sought externally, in the end, it is my own reflection the seeking seeks.

The comfort, rises like the caressing steam from the coffee…you were always there.