Waking up

When the first rays of the sun rise and caress my face dreams leave my mind and awaken to a new routine. A sweet aroma penetrates my nostrils, alerting my still-sleepy mind.

A flood of memories takes hold of me, taking me almost by surprise. I slowly open my pupils and the morning light reflects on my retina, I speed up the process by running the back of my hand over my eyes so that the blurred images become clear.

The smell continues to incite me to get up. The mind, urged by the delicious coffee, speeds up the biological processes. Every organ put in nocturnal suspension, goes back to work, each in its primary function. I stretch my body and on one side of the sheet, my legs and feet show shyly.

The biological machine continues its restarting process, just as a computer begins to activate all its systems. The smell continues to intensify and the sound of the water touching the pot is a very suggestive morning song to the ears.

It is inevitable to keep resisting what cannot be avoided. My stomach demands that I provide it with a delicious cup of coffee, it growls like a wild beast. I don't care how cold it is at that moment of the day, I sit on the bed and feel the flip-flops with my feet, the black color of the plastic appears and with a delirious eagerness, I introduce my feet.

The water that falls uninterruptedly on the pot has stopped and there is silence later interrupted by soft murmurs. I rise with a clear concept of assimilation of reality and reach out my hand over the doorknob, which for one night became the guardian of my dreams.

The hinges make a soft squeak, alerting those who have risen first. The smell is getting stronger and my anxiety becomes a plea that lasts almost forever. The footsteps carry me like a zombie, moving, but not yet reasoning, at least that's how it happens to me.

Eyes meet each other, welcoming the morning with a good morning greeting. My mother busily takes a porcelain cup, my favorite, and places it in position, while with another cup, she dips it into the dark liquid and the smoke drifts away in the breeze of the new day.

In a few moments, the porcelain cup is filled almost to the brim, and then wrinkled but loving hands gently take the cup and pass it to me with a smile of commendable love. I receive it in a wide range of sentimental spectrums and with both hands feel the warmth through the porcelain.

I feel my hands tremble at such a pleasant tactile pleasure. The smoke caresses my face and the aroma of delicious coffee arrives like an emotional shock, preparing me for the long-awaited experience of coffee and taste buds.

With my hands almost in prayer, clutching the cup tightly, I bring it to my mouth and the coffee begins to play with each detector on my tongue. The glorious taste becomes more intense with each sip, and an ecstasy of flavors occurs making the experience even more enjoyable.

Then comes to me from the deepest part of my being, an energy and mood hit, which finishes putting my body in a state of alertness and with all the desire to face a new day, after the caffeine has reached the deepest part of my being, my body is ready to face the new day with its good and bad moments.

The hope I always have is that a cup of coffee by my side, no matter what, will help me, giving me all its benefits, after I finish I leave my cup and continue preparing for work, always with a smile waiting for a new moment to continue enjoying a delicious black coffee at another time of the day.

This has been my answer to the biweekly question of our dear coffee group, with a subtle touch of poetic prose.

_{All images without link are property of Yenny Aldazora
Edited by Rincón Poético.}

The text of this post was originally translated from Spanish to English with the translator DeepL
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