A Cup of Coffee

Typically, making a cup of coffee entails me clumsily and quickly putting water into the Keurig and throwing in a pod and clicking “Brew”. However, when I use my French press to make it, the making of the coffee is equally as intricate and stimulating as drinking it is. I feel the lid of the can of coffee grinds pop off, watch the grinds slide aimlessly around as I dig into the can with my scoop, I see the scoop of coffee shape itself, hanging on just to the grinds who are secure with their position and letting go of the more precipitously located ones. THen I watch the steam pour out of the teapot and switch off the burner. As I pick up the vessel of scalding water and pour it over the French press, the steam reproduces as I tilt the teapot and it flows over my hand, now directly above the opening, warming and wettening it. I pour the water over the grinds and watch a mixture emerge from the puddle. I stir it with my nose directly above and notice the smell go from plain boiling water to rich coffee-scented steam. I take a sip of the fresh black coffee and notice the intricacies and dark bitterness that is brought to the water by the coffee. I then add some French vanilla sweetener to my freshly French-pressed coffee and consider the Frenchness of it all. I then consider how flavoring the cup to what fits my preferences may utterly destroy the worth of this cup of liquid for countless other people. But I don’t consider it for long as I am very aware that this cup of coffee was made by me. I drink the coffee.