December 5, 2012

My dearest,

“Do you smell the floral fragrance? These aromatic notes?” you ask excitedly.

I am bewildered but simply nod because I have learned that is the safe thing to do. You have been telling me of the new coffee you have been brewing at home while I am away, and now that I’m home, you’ve made some for me.

Or if one must be technically correct, you have made some for yourself and generously allowed me a sip or two, having forbidden me from drinking this beverage after three in the afternoon most days as I have a tendency of not being able to sleep later at night.

I sip. One, two.

“Mmmm,” I say, “it’s wonderful.”

You beam and continue rambling about flowers and stuff. I think to myself, it’s just coffee, isn’t it? Well, not if it makes you this happy. Anything that puts a smile that wide on your lovely face isn’t just anything.

“Can I have some more?” I ask, knowing your answer full well in advance.

Yours, ever and always.