Even If I Lost Everything, I’d Still Have Coffee
A few years back, life threw me a curveball. One of those gut-punch moments where you’re left staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m., wondering how it all fell apart so quickly. I lost a business deal I’d sunk my savings into, and with it went my sense of stability. It was like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. In the aftermath, everything felt fragile—except my morning coffee ritual. Each morning, I’d grind the beans, fill the kettle, and go through the familiar motions. The rich, nutty aroma as the water hit the grounds, the slow pour-over, the way the steam curled and danced in the cold morning air—it was the one constant, the one bit of control I had left. I remember one particular morning, feeling the weight of all I’d lost. I sat with my hands wrapped around that warm mug and realized something profound—no matter how much had changed, this small joy was untouchable. Coffee didn’t care about my bank balance or my professional reputation. It was a simple pleasure that asked nothing of me and gave so much in return. When the world gets stripped down to its bare bones, when all the noise is silenced, and the distractions are peeled away, what’s left is what truly matters. For me, coffee is one of those things. A small rebellion against the chaos, a gentle reminder that life’s beauty often lies in the simplest of rituals. So even if I lost it all—my possessions, my status, my plans—I’d still have coffee. And in that, I’d find the strength to rebuild. One cup at a time. Thanks for reading, and here’s to your next cup—may it remind you of the small, unshakeable joys in your life. |
