The Kafe


English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto...

The freshly brewed coffee was poured into the cup.
A daily ritual’s aroma was mingled with freshly baked bread, dipped into the black sea of sweetened coffee. Bread drenched with this morning’s goodness, made its way to the anticipating lips. A scene that played out every day, of every year.

Coffee beans hand picked, roasted then roughly ground, held its own uniqueness. The beans were sticky with an almost burnt aroma, their darkness always produced the same flavors.

The coolness of the day gave way to the sun’s warmth. In this land, regions were shaped by the weather, to include its landscape as part of the temperate zones. These regions decided, as a natural selection process, what areas were best for growing which crops; as nature so often does.

World map with temperate zones highlighted in red

The richest harvest was best suited for those regions where rain settled on the coffee plant’s leaves, on a timely basis, and a timely measure. The plants laden with white flowers, gave images of night blooming jasmine, and orange blossom; but lacking the fragrance of each.

English: A close-up shot of cestrum nocturnum.

Thoughts of how the crop would do lay peacefully on his mind, and words trickled to his lips, as the coffee made it’s way to a comforting spot in his stomach.  If he was worried, he never showed it, and never said it; his words only gave a clue to the work that lay ahead, as he asked about his eldest son.

My Dad, the coffee guy

None of his sons had stayed to work the farm, but he was happy they made their own way  to find their dreams; because the land would be theirs anyway, as with his other children.He had learned to be content with what life brought him, and actually they had done very well, his wife and he. But just for now, he thought of his eldest son, so far away, and chasing a dream that would come to him anyway, just like the land!

The fedora, which normally hid his billowy cotton hair, spoke of a gentleman; the kind that removed his hat when entering a room, or in the presence of ladies.

English: a fedora hat

Some things never change, like coffee in the mornings brought to him by his wife of so many years.  Day after day it was expected, that the coffee would be good, just like life.

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia, “My Dad, the coffee guy” (Photo credit: Erin Nealey)


2 responses »

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