Under Grumpa's Hat

There is a relationship in our lives that has survived mood swings, financial stress, questionable fashion choices, even the slow betrayal of gravity and yes, even relationships. It has outlasted a few human romances, which we will not name out of respect for the fallen. This relationship begins every morning before we have spoken a word, made a decision, or remembered where we left our glasses. Coffee and us are intimate in a way that feels almost inappropriate before sunrise.

It starts with anticipation. Not the reckless kind, but the slow burn. The kitchen is quiet, still half asleep, and then comes that first sound. The low, reassuring gurgle of the coffee maker warming up, like a lover clearing their throat before saying something important. The aroma follows quickly, confident, unapologetic, slipping into every corner of the house. It wraps itself around our senses like a silk robe we did not ask for but immediately appreciate.

By the time it reaches our noses, we are already compromised. Our senses are aroused, trembling in anticipation of what’s coming.

The first cup is not consumed. It is experienced. Hands wrapped around the mug for warmth, eyes still adjusting to the light, posture slightly hunched in a way that says, we are not ready for the world yet, but we are willing to negotiate. The first sip is always tentative, like a first kiss. Too eager and we burn ourselves. Too cautious and we miss the moment. When it hits just right, it slides in smoothly, dark and comforting, waking things up that had no intention of participating in the day.

Inside, something stirs. Thoughts begin to line up. Muscles unclench. The internal monologue that usually sounds like a smoke alarm with low batteries settles down into a gentle hum. Coffee does not shout encouragement. It whispers, We have got this. Or at least, we can fake it convincingly until noon.

There is a sensual honesty to coffee. It does not pretend to be what it is not. It is bitter, bold, occasionally acidic, and somehow still irresistible. Much like most of the people we have loved. Coffee understands us at our worst. Before deodorant. Before optimism. Before social skills. It meets us exactly where we are, breath like a bear that has wintered hard, and says nothing. No judgement. Just warmth and caffeine.

We have rituals. We know how it likes to be prepared, and it knows how we like to be handled. Too weak and we feel cheated. Too strong and we get jittery, like we made a mistake we will regret by mid-morning. There is trust here, built over years of trial and error. A shared history. A few bad decisions with flavoured creamers we do not talk about anymore.

A second cup is still pleasant, but the magic has softened. By the third, we are more like old friends sitting quietly together, enjoying the comfort of familiarity. The sparks are gone, but the bond remains. Coffee has done its job. It has brought us back to life, made us functional, and kept us from saying something regrettable before breakfast.

And that is where the moral quietly waits.

Coffee reminds us that intimacy is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it is built in small, consistent moments. It is about showing up when someone is at their least impressive. About patience, timing, and knowing when enough is enough. The best relationships are not about excess. They are about balance, respect, and appreciation for what the other brings to the table, or in this case, the mug.

So tomorrow morning, when that familiar aroma fills the room and we feel ourselves soften just a little, remember this. Love does not always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it comes hot, dark, and slightly bitter, asking only that we slow down, breathe it in, and savour the moment before the world starts demanding things from us.

Some affairs are worth keeping… and it’s accentuated here in Costa Rica!