Bobbie, Espresso, and Love

Coffee! I need a pot of good strong black coffee... espresso would be better. I make myself a pot. I go away and come back in a few minutes. It is sputtering all over the stove even on a low fire. Oh drat ... why is it doing that?! It did the same thing yesterday. I fix my cup. It is a big one not a small one. Then I sit down to work on a painting for a bit. (I have started to paint again.) I go back to the kitchen to get a drink of water and wash the espresso pot. I open the pot and there is the problem. Grains of coffee on the rim that I did not brush away before I tightened the pot. Deja Vu! All of that has triggered a memory of when I first began to drink espresso. An electric burner in a small office pulled from a worn cabinet filled with tiny cups, sugar,spoons, napkins...not paper, and lots of coffee. The water was in the corner or under the desk, in a plastic water jug. The process was always the same. The careful filling of the pot with water, the packing of the coffee in the filter, that last brushing away of any stray grounds from the seal and the lip of the pot by a little stiff finger. That one act, that one movement done with so much detail and love has left its mark upon my memory. I learned so much more than just how to drink espresso in that office at the end of a narrow hall. I learned about kindness, manners, patience, love, tolerance, graciousness, and of course the ritual of the coffee. Thank you Bobbie!