It used to be that the way I needed coffee was pretty unhealthy. I eventually found the snobbish way I drank coffee- the quantity and type- to be quite limiting. When my world got a little bigger (read: when I got my first real job and realized I couldn’t necessarily afford the coffee I loved or at least to drink it as much as I had been) I became less of a snob about what coffee I was willing to drink. Today, I enjoy one cup of good coffee and this makes me happy- its perfect cardboard coloring, the strong taste of freshly roasted beans, the beauty of the way it looks in its mug, the kick-start to my day. Sometimes this perfect cup is quietly enjoyed alone, sometimes with friends or with my husband, dreaming about the future. But what I like best about that one cup of coffee hasn’t changed. It is the infinite possibility it affords. While sitting, drinking coffee, I feel I might accomplish anything during the day. I might start a business, book travel plans to visit friends or explore new countries, I might write the book that has been brewing in my head, draw beautiful pictures, make political cartoons. I might climb mountains high and ride my bike far distances, I might even learn the Spanish language, learn that bothersome F#m chord on the guitar. I could surely finish the book I’m reading, teach my baby girl to walk and sing and dance, make impossible dishes for dinner, bake perfect baguettes, get a puppy, take beautiful pictures, find myself in a bluegrass band, make new friends and reconnect with my old ones. And sometimes I do. Sometimes I do.