It is not a beverage.
It is an event.
In our home, it is known, simply, as “morning coffee.” It is the only cup of coffee I drink most days. And everyone knows not to mess with it.
I like my coffee very strong, with a lot of milk.

On an almost perfect day, I get up, shuffle into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I half-fill two mugs with water and put them into the microwave to heat the water, which heats the mugs. While the pot is brewing, I empty the dishwasher (on a not-so-perfect morning, I load the dishwasher, muttering that I should have done it the night before).

When the coffee maker has finished its job, I pour the hot water out of the mugs, add sugar to each, splash a bit of milk into Hubby’s cup and fill my mug about a third full of milk. Into the microwave they go to heat the milk. Meanwhile, I splash a little milk into a dish for Miranda, the littlest tabby, to quell her meowing.

Mugs ready, I begin stirring the sugar and milk together as I pour in the strong coffee (as with tea, I believe coffee should be poured into the milk, not vice versa). I shuffle back to the bedroom and relish the pure pleasure of morning coffee.

When the kids were little, they enjoyed their morning bottle while I savored my morning coffee. From the beginning, I made clear that this was Mama’s Morning Coffee Time. We respect it and cherish it. To this day they know that NOTHING happens until Mama has had her morning coffee.

Of course, perfect days happen on the weekends because that’s when Hubby takes his turn making Morning Coffee. Hubby Coffee is the best of all!