Coffee was made for mornings like this. The thought crossed my mind this morning, and I entertained it, humored it even, although I knew it was absurd. Coffee was not made, per se, so much as it was discovered. And in any case, that genesis was in Ethiopia. Even with all of our modern agricultural genius, coffee is still grown in equatorial climates exclusively. So no, coffee was not made for snowy mornings, for temperatures flirting with zero, white streaked skies or blanketed ground.
But even still...
There is knowing a thing, and then there is feeling it. I know better than that. I know, on a basic, factual level, that coffee was by no means invented to comfort a cold body on a cold morning. And yet all of my rational powers cannot convince that romantic part of me that believes otherwise.
And so I stood in the kitchen this morning, watching the snow dart towards the earth, imagining how high it might pile. Up to a foot, they say. I smiled at that, nostalgia for snow days gone. Then, I would spend my day in the basement, playing Sonic the Hedgehog; or perhaps I would sit at the computer, and play NBA Live '98. I might read too, and probably play outside. There would be hot chocolate, and a fire, as well as family. But memories of fires long extinguished do not keep one warm, and certainly do not quell hunger.
So I shivered a bit, wondered if perhaps I should have bothered to put on a shirt, or even pants, and set about the morning business. There was breakfast to prepare; and so I did, microwaving an evol rice and bean burrito. (Though I'm no epicurean, and certainly no culinary master, I do usually bother to prepare my own breakfast. But the burritos were on sale last night, and so I couldn't help but stock up. Convenience food is, well, convenient.)
Then there was coffee. I made it, sipped it, and looked at the snow again. I thought that, perhaps, a darker roast would have been more appropriate for the occasion, but then decided that a light, bright coffee could be something as a transport to a warmer climate. And so I drank, feeling warm, comfortable, and just generally good. Disregarding what I knew, I went instead with what I felt: Coffee really was made for mornings like this.