The Little Things.

Coffee has been a long time lover of mine, apart from a recent three year estrangement. It all started at the tender age of eight, when my German father slowly upgraded my babyccino to a decaf cappuccino - to a weak cappuccino - to a latte - to a short black and finally to two double-shot short blacks before school by the time I was 14 (much love to a Euro upbringing). Naturally, I was addicted at an early age and my expectations for quality where exponentially high. I was a connoisseur, a ravisher of this golden liquid - that is, when it was grown, roasted and brewed properly. My affair hit a peak four years ago when I lived in Italy for a few months. Good... nay... exceptional coffee was everywhere! Even a petrol station in the middle of nowhere, which looked like it was a rodent infested shite hole, would have a coffee machine capable of oozing out a short black with the smoothest consistency and a healthy cream top. While in Italy, it got to the point where I would put a shot of coffee into my breakfast cereal. I would have at least six cups a day. The best one I have ever had was in the centre of Milano, which cost 6 euros. The outrageous price might of accentuated the flavour, none the less, it was like nectar of the Gods. Sadly, a few months later when I returned to Australia, my stomach could no longer handle coffee’s acidity. I had to break up with my lover. It was hard and my yearning was excruciating at first. I would lurk in the corner of a cafe just to smell it’s aroma and would still turn up my nose if I could smell  that the barrister had the water too hot, or if the grind was too coarse so that the coffee would burn, or the biggest offense - if the milk had been boiled. No matter how good the coffee is, if the milk is boiled, its going to be bad. In my three year hiatus I would smell and have an occasional sip of others’ coffee to reminisce and keep my despair at bay.

This year has partially involved me taking care of my health and sticking to a ‘diet’ to help heal and replenish my stomach to its former glory and lately it has been feeling great. So a few days ago, driving home, I thought “I haven’t had a full cup of coffee in over three years... I also haven’t eaten that much and I feel like cake... I haven’t read my book in a while...” CLICK! Spontaneously, I turned off down a road, parked and strolled into one of my favourite cafes. It was time. I ordered a latte and a flourless chocolate cake, sat down, whipped open my book and began reading. Then the aroma of my coffee being prepared wafted over and tickled my nostrils, serotonin was immediately let loose in my bloodstream. Anticipation heated my body, I was burning, to the point of salivation. Curiosity also exuded my thoughts - “I wonder how this will go down? Will my stomach be up for the challenge?” Not too long after, my coffee slid into place above my book, along with my cake. The thought of this being my coffee, a whole cup, just for me, felt so foreign... almost naughty. I was giddy. I slowly reached out, delicately and lovingly held the cup, lifted it to the proximity of my nose and inhaled. My giddiness intensified. This was it... When the first sip hit my tastebuds and washed down my throat re-stimulating the olfactory of my nasal cavity, I almost whimpered. It was so exquisitely delectable. I savoured/relished every sip after, along with every mouth full of cake and every word read. It all went down so well! My first full cup of coffee in over three years! That alone made me grin from ear to ear. At last, coffee and I were together again and I was feeling all warm inside, glowing. 

It really is the little things that grant everlasting contentment. They are so simple, readily available, ever present, reliable and easy. They aren’t so large as to create a shadow of doubt or to create any anxiety of its end because there will be another one around the corner. They are usually the things that make the big things even more rememberable, the things most savoured, the most special and usually the most appreciated.  They are in great abundance when I have the freedom to be spontaneous and they are there to give a helping hand in the stressful times - if I don’t become too preoccupied. I find if I remain open, present and aware there will always be little things to keep me grateful and ultimately happy.

It is a beautiful thing.