Fill ’er up

My main squeeze is quite the catch. He’s tall, dark and handsome. People who know him describe him as smooth, bold and full-bodied. He gives me a reason to wake up in the morning and more often than not, the means to do so.

Coffee has been my longtime companion for years and our relationship is still going strong. Who would have thought the word I spelled wrong in a second-grade spelling bee would mean so much to me now?

Many of us, without our morning jolt, are quite unpleasant. For me at least, I feel as if there’s a void—something has thrown me off balance and for some reason, coffee centers me and helps me find my bearings. It’s an odd thing, really. People readily queue for coffee as if it were the line for the elixir of life (some may argue that it is). I feel a certain camaraderie with the people in line, as if we’re on a pilgrimage in search of the ultimate cuppa Joe.

And then the moment arrives when I quickly say, “one milk, one sugar,” the excitement builds and the anticipation is almost unbearable. As I leave Tim’s, travel mug in hand, I breathe a sigh of relief as order is restored to my disheveled life.

I don’t think it’s the caffeine that entices me because I’m sure there are much better sources of available, like Red Bull or similar energy drinks. It’s more the aroma and the romanticism that coffee evokes. When I’m studying and I take a sip from my travel mug, I feel transported to some café in Paris with Edith Piaf singing “La vie en rose” in the background. When I’m at home and I make coffee in my French press, there’s nothing more delightful.

Coffee is also a wonderful way to bring people together. Only at a coffee house would you be able to spend just a few dollars and sit there for hours. I’ve had some of the best conversations with my friends over coffee—it is the perfect opportunity to vent and spill your guts about anything and everything.

When I’m home, my dad and I have our usual coffee dates where I tell him what’s going on in my life. As we sip from our mugs, it’s more like we’re friends than parent and child and for some strange reason, I’m more at ease telling him that I still don’t know what I want to do or where I want to go with my life. And what’s stranger, he doesn’t seem to worry about me quite as much—at least not for that one moment.

Being a student has definitely encouraged what some of my friends may call my addiction to coffee. During exams, we all compare how many cups of coffee we’ve had that day, as if the number of cups directly translates to the amount of hours spent studying —although, if this were true, my GPA would be significantly higher.

When I look back on these years at Queen’s, I’m sure I’ll remember pulling all-nighters with my friends and making frequent runs to the Common Ground—not the exams we busted our butts studying for.

So let’s all raise our mugs and savour the moment.

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