My Addiction

 Posted by on 05/10/2011
May 102011
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I’m addicted to coffee. The nutty roast aroma that permeates through the room as a new brew slowly drips into the glass pot makes my skin itch with anticipation.  I’m not addicted to the common symptoms that most users experience.

No, I’m addicted to the nostalgic feeling of the past.  The memory of me walking into my grandparents house.  The memory of my grandfather, a strong-humble man, sitting at the head of the table sipping on a fresh cup, dipping his buttered toast, and asking, “How you Danny Boy?”

I’m addicted to the memory of joining him for my first cup when he felt it was time I graduated from hot cocoa and on to the real stuff.

So while most go to coffee for a boost of energy in the morning, a pick me upper during the middle of the day, or to prepare for an all-night of work, I see it as a memory of a man who I respectfully looked up to and wanted to be just like.  I’m addicted to coffee because hopefully one day I’ll be sitting at the head of the table looking at my life and know that I did my best to be anything like him.

Who inspires you?

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