A love letter to Coffee.

My Dearest Coffee,

I must admit that when we first met, I was just not that into you. I added so much fluff and cream that you did not taste like, well like you. It was a collection of sweet cream and caramel that I had become oh so addicted to in the beginning of our relationship. 

I was a mere child then; succumbing to the fads like much of my friends. I had been foolish spending a hefty $50 or more a week on Starbucks. I was a proud gold card carrying member then, and my drink was so sweet that I could not taste your elegance. This awful neglect and abusive way of living sadly occurred for much longer than it needed to. For that I am truly sorry.

As the years have passed and my tastes have become more sophisticated, I realized that I didn't need that much fluff in our relationship. My visits to Starbucks became a little less expensive by subtracting the fluff. Shortly after, I began to appreciate the other various coffee shops that brewed you with such grace. Now, I enjoy the simple coffee that I make at home and in the office. I had realized that all of the fluff and extra people were only substitutions that I was trying to use to fulfill our relationship. When all I really needed was just you. 

This past year, I have learned more about you than I have in our first years of courting. I have fallen madly in love with the various tastes of your many different roasts. And in May when I was served a cup of you that was french pressed. Well you know that saying, once you go pressed you never go back? Well it simply is true. The flavor! The aroma! I was even able to drink you black, and appreciate the flavors of your west coast specialty blend. 

I make this simple promise to you; I promise that I will always respect you, and tell you that I love you daily.  You will always have a place in my heart and in my mug, my sweet caffeinated angel. 

With deepest affection, 

Kylea