Dear Coffee,
There was a time in my life that I didn’t know you. I didn’t appreciate your goodness, your complexity, and the joy you’d someday bring to me. For that, I am sorry. I hope this letter will make it up to you.
I know it’s stereotypical.
Moms and coffee go hand-in-hand. But to me, you’re so much more than caffeine. You’re a ritual. You’re the first part of my day. You set the tone for the events to come. You awaken my heart. You’re a religious experience right in the middle of the chaos of my kitchen.
From the moment my alarm starts blaring and I’m jolted from sleep, I start thinking about you. Sometimes, when I really have my life together, I set the pot to auto-brew the night before, and I am greeted by your aroma before my feet hit the floor. Those are the sweetest days. Those are the days I feel like I can handle anything life throws at me.
I stumble to the kitchen, tripping over the four-year-old underfoot, and select my mug. That mug is a life-giving vessel, and it must be chosen with the utmost care. When I pour my first cup, it’s like I’m pouring energy directly into my soul. A splash of cream completes the magic.
Cradling you in my hands, I feel your warmth. I take a deep breath and the warmth floods my whole body.
I come alive. 
Suddenly, the sun shines a little brighter. The world seems a little kinder. My daughter, the one who was previously underfoot, becomes a dear, dancing sprite. I am transformed. I’m more tolerant and patient. I’m gracious and charitable. It’s amazing what you can do to my tired soul.
I’m sorry I let you get cold sometimes.
I’m sorry for forgetting to put the carafe in place and brewing you all over the countertop and floor. Twice.
I’m sorry about that time I sprayed hairspray in you. Believe me, I was just as upset as you.
I’m sorry for all those times I left the half-empty cup next to the bathroom sink in the rush to get out the door.
Thank you for always forgiving me. For being there each and every morning, ready to fill me again with your goodness.
Coffee, you are so good to me.
You are pure joy – and you share that joy with all who experience you.
You are community – and you bring people together: to work, to chat, to connect.
You are a goddess – and you make this mama feel like she can do anything.
So, to each and every one of you reading this – I’d like to share a coffee with you one day. Whether literally or figuratively, realistically or virtually, I think we could all use a little mug of love. Or a big, soup-sized bowl of love – no judgment here. Because momming is rough. Being a mom can be the most wonderful, and yet the most isolating, job on the planet. Mama, the next time you fix yourself a cup of the good stuff, know you’re not alone. Feel the warmth and support of all the other tired moms out there, taking that first sip in solidarity.
We could all be a little more tolerant. We could all be a little more patient. We could all use a little bit of kindness and compassion. And my dearest Coffee, you’re just the one to do it.
I raise my mug to you, Mamas.
