I love the first cup of coffee in the morning.  When I first open my eyes and stumble my way into the kitchen, I am a sleep-blind woman who goes through the motions on auto-pilot until the brew has completed its cycle.  The aroma, the sounds of the machinery, the feel of my favorite cup, are all catalysts that trigger the pistons in my brain until signs of neural activity start to appear.  The fog lifts as I take that first, pleasurable, dopamine-charged swallow, and suddenly I behold the promise of a new day.  I revel in the ecstasy of its warm, perfectly mocha-colored smoothness as it rolls over my tongue and caresses my taste buds with its embrace of sweetness and bitterness, perfectly mated…as I swallow.

All too soon the glory is ended and the bottom of the cup is in sight.  The second cup is never as magical.  Try as I might to recapture the nirvana of the first cup, it is impossible.  Who would have guessed that such a small pleasure would hold so much promise?  I can’t wait for tomorrow!