A Mother's Ode To Coffee

by Chelsey Tobiason
Valeria Boltneva / PEXELS

Hey, you,

I have been thinking about you more and more these days — how our relationship began, how it evolved, and where we currently stand. My obsession with you just seems to grow stronger with time, with life, with motherhood.

In the business of my days, I pause a moment to take in the effortless of our friendship, of our seemingly casual status but the deep bond that has flowered over time.

Some nights, I fall asleep thinking about you — how you smell, what it feels like when you touch my lips. I close my eyes and see my reflection…in you.

I get out of bed…for you. I shuffle through the mess of toys and diapers, quietly padding to the kitchen in excitement at our reunion.

There are days (most days) when I wonder what I would do without you, what my life would be like. Who would I be without you? How would I even survive?

You’re such a calming presence. When we’re together, I feel like everything will be OK. You ground me. Bring me back to center.

When I’m having a hard day, when my house is full of rolly pollies that the children have brought inside and then instantly forgot about, the only thing that saves me is my time alone with you.

At the park, when I can’t find one child and the other two are having a pushing contest at the top of the slide, I take a deep breath and wish you were with me. And it’s all right because I know we’ll be together soon.

Soon I will hold you, caress you, and breathe you in…every molecule.

Some frown upon dependence, but I am a simple being with simple needs. And you fulfill a part of me that cannot be quenched by the happy faces of my children or my spouse’s embrace.

I’ve told my husband about you. I am much too old and far too tired to sneak around. He knew from the beginning. I am grateful that he understands the complexity of our relationship and that he knows you can give me something he cannot. I think, on some level, he recognizes that I wouldn’t be myself without you.

Sometimes I lose track of time and place, and I catch myself whispering your name out loud.

“Coffee…” I croon.