All alcohol tastes bitter. If it tastes sweet, then you're already an adult. -Kim Shin, Goblin
I think you can replace alcohol on this quote with coffee, but it becomes partly true. Some types of coffee such as Great Taste Double White tastes as if you're sipping pure syrup. Sobra, humahagod sa lalamunan yung tamis. I'm no coffee expert in terms of appreciating different aspects of coffee like the origin or aroma; I just love the thought I get from having coffee, especially on coffee shops.
Every adult I encountered when I was a child all agreed in telling my brother and I that coffee is not for kids, because coffee has caffeine, and you know what caffeine does, right? It speeds up your heartbeat, which might be an unpleasant feeling for kids. I heeded that advice. I think I didn't even have an urge to try coffee even on my college days when I needed to stay awake for reviews.
Until I was already working for three years. It was at office, almost everyday at about 2pm: that time of the day where the eyes most feel like bringing the covers down in the middle of broad daylight. "I got work to do. I can't doze off." Or maybe it's more of, "I don't want my boss to see me unconscious with my mouth comftably open." On one of those afternoons I decided that I am already an adult, and I now have an intangible license to drink this caffeinated beverage I have been rejecting since childhood. I know most coffee tastes bitter, so I tried Nescafè Creamy White for starters because I wanted something that's not so bitter (at least in my idea the creamy ones are not so bitter), and also it was one of the available stocks in our department. (Our department has a budget of P15 a day for coffee per person. That's about two sachets a day.)
As I tore the sachet about halfway at the top, the aroma started entering my senses. I stirred in the powder and the steaming hot water in my tumbler, and then I took the first sip. It was warm, like snuggling on a blanket on a rainy weather. But it was invigorating. My sleepiness was slowly leaving me as I was halfway through the tumbler's contents.
In that first voluntary experience I understood why the adults were so into coffee. I don't know if I am picking the right words to describe it, but there was comfort in it. Coffee is a hug in a mug, as one quote says. Indeed nowadays whenever I am weighed down by petty stresses and there is no one I could talk to about them, coffee comes to mind (after I rant to God. I tell God everything). And then I start looking for a place, a spot where no one would bother with what I'm thinking or doing. It's in the search for this serene place that I started hanging out at coffee shops.
I told one of my friends, "sa tingin ko isa sa mga binabayaran sa coffee shops eh yung ambiance saka yung friendly service nila sayo." His thought about it was, "ako, talagang yung kape lang ang habol ko." Ok, I guess it's not the same for everyone. I like hanging out at coffee shops because you're given a good space for easing out your tensed body, for thinking, for just chilling out. The aroma of coffee, the cozy seats, the not-so-bright lighting, and the easy music really creates the atmosphere. It's like renting a good room to stay overnight, for the cost of a drink. Add pastries as needed.
I remember one night having all these thoughts in me. It wasn't a TGIF-type Friday for me; I was out from the day's work at about 7:30pm. I didn't have any colleagues or friends with me, and my work on that day was far from our office, so I decided to go straight to the mermaid's place, you know where that is. I ordered a hibiscus tea latte (wait so this ain't about coffee? I think it has the same effect. I pick the bad examples I guess.) and a banoffee pie. I sat on a table for two beside a transparent glass wall on my right with an outside view of the man-made lake colored by steady yellow lights. I have my office journal with me that day, and a Mongol no. 2 and a little sharpener.
I started jotting my thoughts on the notebook as I took the first slow sips on the tea, and maybe a half-spoonful or two of the food. The structure was like a prayer, in a narrative way. I was telling God of my burdens that time and how they were weighing me down to the point of...to the point where I couldn't contain them anymore that I had to let them out on something (the journal takes the blow, if it was too much.) I was also doing some extra work-related stuff at that time, checking an email and sending texts to some people I'll be meeting tomorrow for work. I really needed a place that time, to organize my to-do things and to let my messed up thoughts meet with God.
As I was nearing the completion stage of my little session, I felt that the weight was still in there. I was already re-reading my words from the start, and then my attention was slowly brought to the lyrics of the song playing in the coffee shop. The words were something like this: bring it all to the table, nothing he has seen before. I thought that the phrase was familiar, something mentioned in the Bible. I willfully listened to the music to get some more lyrics, and then I googled every phrase I remembered on that song, and then I got myself into this song: To The Table by Zach Williams.
Bring it all to the table
There's nothing He ain't seen before
For all your sins, all your sorrow and your sadness
There's a Savior and He calls
Bring it all to the table
It was a kind of song I didn't expect to hear in a public place. The thing is, I think it was willed by God that I went to that coffee shop. I think that the song was played for me that time. At least that's what I think. The comfort I felt at that night was more than what I got from the tea latte. But then if not for the drink I would have not gone to that place.
Even now I still look for a good coffee shop whenever deep thoughts and messy plans nudge me for attention. I type them all on my phone when I don't have a journal with me. I learned to accept that sometimes there are really no one who I can turn to (some people are busy, some people I don't want to bother), though at other times I really prefer to be with just the coffee. Nonetheless God still knows me and cares for me, this I know. It's really good that I can bring all my sorrows in a table, perhaps a coffee table for me. And then I'd find comfort and grace right there. View Full Post
