My Murky Love

Love can sometimes be a murky, bitter potion. The more you let the magic seep in…… the more you want it. This is what coffee is for me. I tried to refuse coffee’s advances for years, denying the love I really felt for it. I played hard to get, I would give it a cold, hard stare as the brown liquid lay unsipped in a mug.
“ You will never touch my lips” I whispered, turning my head away.
The first time I tried coffee, I thought that it tasted vile. It is bitter and abusive to your mouth and brown and murky in color. As a child I thought it looked like the water in our small pond. I soon imagined that coffee was infested with snakes and frogs. And no one in their right mind would let pond water into their mouth, so I kept my lips sealed.
As I grew older my curiosity and passion increased dramatically. Sometimes, when we went to Starbucks, I would find myself eying coffee, the forbidden fruit of my life. My friends encouraged my negative attitude towards coffee.
“ You shouldn’t let coffee near you.” Said Bernadette
“ It wouldn’t be healthy considering you’re so hyper….” Said Eloise
“ It will increase your heartbeat.” Declared Edna
I listened for a little while. But, I had a great deal of trouble. I would walk around a lonely, street corner and there coffee would be…….just yearning for my love. Soon I was sent away and I forgot all about coffee. I went on with my life, diligently doing my work and socializing, I had all but forgotten about coffee.
Then one day fate embraced me. In a quaint New England town I happened upon…. There was coffee. I walked in with a few dear friends of mine. There was the faint smell of Magnolia trees in the air and daffodils and Tulips were spouting about everywhere you turned. My two friends saw their boyfriends and said that they would catch up with me later. I went into the local chocolate shop for a cookie and that’s when I saw Coffee again.
I ordered a peanut butter cookie and the nice lady at the register asked if there was anything else that she could bring me.
I turned a faint shade of pink. Then I asked.
“ An iced coffee please? With plenty of room for cream.” ( I wanted to take things slowly, and I knew that eventually my love for coffee would be so strong that I wouldn’t need any cream or sugar.)
I now had coffee in my hand. It was icy and cold to the touch. I let a good amount of cream trickle in to the plastic cup, making the coffee almost seem more beautiful, as the white mixed in with the dark brown. I was a little nervous as I held coffee to my lips. The bitter, creamy liquid seeped into my mouth and I embraced it. I knew from that moment on that I was in love.