There’s something about coffee that makes me think of love.
Not the loud kind. Not the kind that needs constant attention or big declarations. I mean the quiet kind, the kind that settles in slowly, like warmth in your hands on a slow morning.
I notice it most when I’m sitting with a cup of coffee and my thoughts drift to someone I care about.
Coffee isn’t rushed and neither is love
I’ve never really liked rushing coffee. Even when I’m in a hurry, I still pause for that first sip. There’s a process to it, waiting for it to cool a little, holding the cup, letting the aroma settle in before I even taste it.
Loving someone feels strangely similar.
It doesn’t always arrive loudly or dramatically. Sometimes it’s just there, growing quietly in the background of your life. You don’t always notice it forming, but one day you realize it’s become part of your routine like needing that cup of coffee in the morning.
Coffee also changes depending on how I feel, sometimes it’s bitter, sometimes smooth, sometimes strong enough to wake me up when I need clarity. And love is a bit like that as well. The same person can feel comfort on some days and confusion on others, but you still choose them anyway because there’s something familiar that feels like home.
One of my favorite things about coffee is how it lets me just be. No need to talk. No need to perform. Just me, the cup and whatever thoughts decide to come and go.
Love, when it’s right, feels like that too.
You don’t always need words to fill the space. Silence doesn’t feel awkward. It feels safe. Like you can just exist next to someone without explaining yourself.
I think that’s why I like both coffee and love that doesn’t demand too much. The kind that lets you sit in silence without feeling empty, where just being there is enough. No pressure to perform, no need to fill every space with words.
In the end, I always find myself coming back to coffee, just like certain people in life. Not because it’s perfect, but because it feels real enough to return to.
