I made a cup of coffee today that was so good it transported me to another time and place.
One moment I was sitting in front of my computer with my bucket of pens a stapler, pencil sharpener and binoculars crowding around my mouse.
Then I lifted the cup to my nose and the sensation swept me to a tropical land where the first rays of morning sun delivered pitch, resins and floral perfumes from the jungle's edge to me on the most delicate morning dew and the slightest of breezes.
As I stood on the porch of my wood and thatch hut surveying the village and the surrounding jungle canopy lit by the honeyed morning sun, the villagers, as they passed by, looked at me with the fondness normally afforded to a beloved grandfather. I could only imagine that I must have served the village in some profoundly benevolent way in the recent past. Cured a dreaded disease, or saved the life of a revered villager.
Then I remembered the real reason they loved me. I had developed a means distilling the essence of grandmotherly love from the local coffee and freely shared the technique with them. They were so grateful they vowed to honor me always as a venerated village elder. And they were true to their word.
Yes...that is how good my coffee was this morning.
