Sunday, August 9, 2009

in memory

It is with great sorrow that I write this. Today something happened, something tragic (only a minor tragedy for some... for me, much bigger.) I don't even remember how it all happened, but it did and it happened so quickly, that I can't make sense of it all...

Today, as I proceeded to make the daily afternoon coffee, the container holding the freshly ground coffee struck my french press and yes, it shattered. I literally stopped breathing for one second and almost cried, yes, cried.

Of all the things in my kitchen, of all the things in my house, my beloved french press.... not a vase or pitcher or a hair dryer or picture frame... the one thing I use every single day.

She's been with me since Christmas of 2005, as a gift from my friends. For the last four years, she's made me delicious coffee while I lived in Florida, Michigan, California, and now Tennessee. Everyday, for the last four years, my french press graciously gave me that perfect cup of coffee in the morning, often in the afternoons, and occasionally, some evenings, too.

On mornings when I was extra tired and subconsciously ground more coffee, that rich, strong coffee was the perfect companion. When I curled up with a good book, a delicious coffee was always necessary. Ok, anytime really.

What can I say, this is a big deal in our house. Even though I don't exactly need coffee at 10pm, I feel a loss knowing that I can't make any right now. Sure, there's always that other coffee maker.... sure, it works.... and sure, it makes coffee {if that is what you call coffee}. It's not the same. I don't care what you say, it's not the same. Next, you'll be telling me that some pre-ground generic coffee sold in large canisters is good, too.

We'll hopefully get another one soon and everything will be ok, but I don't even want to think about the mornings until then. What a sad thought.

Thank you my lovely French press for your wonderful years of service to me, I'm not sure what I would have done without you and I hope the next one will only strive to be as good as you have been to us. I miss you already, what a terrible way to go.

1 comment:

  1. This is incredibly have my deepest sympathy. I would've cried, so I admire your restraint. Anything that gets in the way of my coffee would result in tears, I'm sure.


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