My dearest coffee machine,
You’ve been faithful to me for seven years without a splutter. You’ve rescued me from dire sleep deprivation with your sensitive touch. The sound of you getting all steamed up – in readiness for me – makes my heart pump and my hands shake in anticipation.
Some mornings I see your green light on signaling it’s time, but one of the children pulls me away from you. My stomach turns and my head reels with dizziness, but you stand strong, patient and ever read to serve. Waiting. It’s torturous at times. I feel myself panting with longing and then – finally, I’m ready.
l bring my jug eagerly to your spout. I focus entirely on you, ignoring the screams of ‘Mummy!’ all around me. I hear your pressure valve open and out pours your steam, pumping my milky cavern.
With a sigh I pause to collect the beans, taking in their intoxicating scent as they are ground to gold dust. I load you up and let you go again. I watch with moist lips as you drain your rich, aromatic liquid into my vessel. It’s nearly time for the finale. The milky jug I now hold with a firm wrist and gently pour forth the contents on top. My vessel is full, with a creamy texture on top of the dark velvet under layer.
Ah, yes! You’ve done it again! I can’t see my love for you ever dying.
Thank you for your patience, for loving me even though I give you so little of my time. If I wasn’t pulled in so many directions I would dotingly polish your bits till every milli-metre of you dazzled in the sunlight.
Yours with love and gratitude,
Joining in with Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop