I moved to a drizzly little town just north of Seattle the summer before middle school. In a tiny, peace sign-shaped subdivision, there were six girls all in the same grade. As preteen and teen girls do, we became the best of friends, then hated each other, back-stabbed each other, finally made up – only to repeat the cycle over again. Once all of us in the neighborhood started getting our drivers licenses, we would alternate driving each other to and from school. And we would stop for coffee on the way.
Washington is known for coffee stands; little drive-through huts on the edges of parking lots manned by peppy baristas. This probably became a trend because the average rainfall is about 38 inches a year and people wanted to stay in their cars. They’re everywhere, which is great because we love our coffee in the Pacific Northwest. A hot mocha (that’s what I drank then) on a cold March morning always tasted best.
I’ve been working from home more lately because I hurt my eye (I’ll spare you the details), so I’ve been walking to a local coffee shop to get my morning fix. This morning I took this shot you see here and started thinking about those first coffee runs with my girlfriends in the morning. I sipped my latte and realized how long it’s been since I had a morning routine that I looked forward to. All signs point to coffee.