the taste of coffee black.

i am up earlier than i have been in awhile, awake in the way you are when you are glad to be awake, not just needing to be awake to get somewhere, and not just because you were up all night. the type of awake you are when you are just happy to be here, and that's why you're awake. i have my cup of coffee beside me, not because i need the caffeine to waken my sore tired head, but because i want to savor the sips of heated flavor of rich, bold coffee, with a hint of bitter and sweet. i drink my coffee black. but you knew that from the moment you met me. just like i knew you didn't.

the birds are raucous this morning, and the trees have already changed from yesterday. i marvel at the changes that have happened so quickly, that i am noticing the subtle movements of spring coming. of spring arriving. on my doorstep. standing in front of me and around me, as i sit on my stoop. i never really know i'm yearning for something until it's there right in front of me and i realize i have been holding my breath for an impossibly long time. i have been shaking, holding my breath, and then it comes, and the air rushes out of my lungs to meet it, and the shaking stops, but now i am trembling. and just so so happy that it has come. because i have been waiting so long, i started to convince myself that it wasn't, to try to prepare myself for the disappointment.

i keep asking myself when i became this woman. these past few months have been so intensely difficult for reasons you know and reasons you don't, and not like there weren't wonderful moments of love and joy there, because there were, but time has been difficult in the way things are difficult for a compulsive perfectionist like me who needs to know what's wrong so she can devise an intricate plan to fix things. i couldn't figure out who i was or where i went or anything. i didn't know what i wanted anymore. i had lost myself somewhere along the way. i wanted to fix things, but didn't know what to fix, where to begin.

so i am beginning here. it's early monday morning, and i am giddy with the knowledge of experiencing the first spring rain from start to finish, of trees that have changed from one day to the next, of writing that makes me never want to stop reading, of falling asleep to the sunrise, of waking to the sunrise, of cups of coffee that i savor and don't need, of popsicle brand popsicles, of time that is not measured by numbers but by everything else that is unquantifiable that gives you reason to remember particular moments over others.

the thing is, i didn't just become this woman. i didn't need to fix anything in particular. i needed to see myself in a new way. i needed to allow myself to be defined in ways other than the ways i had become so comfortable in being defined, in defining myself. and i know that i have been this woman all along. that i am this woman.

i learned to drink my coffee black because i liked what i thought it said about me. i drink my coffee black because i've come to love its complication. it may or may not say the things about me that i was hoping for when i first started drinking coffee. but you're sitting there, across from me, drinking your coffee with 2 shots of cream, and you know why i drink my coffee black.

i am this woman who gets out of bed to see the sun coming, to greet the day. and i drink my coffee black. it's good coffee. and i'm not trying to prove anything anymore. because i am sitting by myself, drinking my coffee black, and it's for me. it's for me.

i have been waiting a long time. and it's been worth the wait. i have been worth the wait.

leave no room for cream or sugar. fill it to the top with hot hot coffee. i take my coffee black.