I smell it brewing. I wonder if he’s using the imported from Italy coffee. Weekends are special that way. He wakes up before me. Unlike workaday weekdays when I use the domestic coffee and I begin my day at 5am. On Saturday, after I let the dogs out, I put the puppy back to sleep, Ralph goes into his doggie bed at the foot of mine and I slide under the rumpled but still warm covers dreaming of Italian coffee and frothy milk.
On Saturday, he takes care of our morning kitchen rituals like emptying the dishwasher, feeding the dogs, and getting the coffee started. As I fall back asleep, I dreamily recognize the clatter of our routine; sections of the paper scattering over the table, cabinet doors opening and closing, dishes stacking, silverware tinkling, dog food scooping, and water running from the tap for the coffee.
Each sound so obvious, every smell so familiar; I can tell what is for breakfast as I dreamily doze back to sleep. Definitely the imported coffee…..
|According to popular myth, coffee was first discovered by a goat herder named Kaldi in Ethiopia in the 9th century.|