a pinch of melancholy

the afternoon was quiet. i just completed running an errand for the wife. submitted some documents for her office. it was my day off. i decided to drop by my favorite coffee nook and while the time away. another hard earned forty-five pesos eased out of my wallet. i'd admit it's worth it though because right there in that coffee stall i am able to unwind, to de-stress. i am able to gather the pieces of my jigsaw puzzle self that unwisely got scattered during these five days of stressful work of this week just passed.

my nose quivered at the bitter aroma of the freshly brewed coffee in front of me.  the wisps of smoke rising from the surface of the black liquid faintly betray its hotness. i dared not touch it to my lips yet. i can wait. i dropped half a teaspoon of brown sugar and about three spoonfuls of fresh milk and stirred the mixture.  wisps of smoke escaped upwards again.  i recalled the first line of one of henry david thoreau's poems -- "light winged smoke, Icarian bird". i could not remember the rest. it is of course a reference to Icarus of Greek mythology.

the hot liquid in front of me turned khaki now. this is how i like it this time. i held the waxened paper cup lightly with my right hand and turned it around slowly. there was this fine print in the cup. i think this was the first time i've noticed it. it read -- "love at first sip." i smiled in amusement and nodded in agreement.

it's time.

i lifted the cup slowly and held it about an eighth of an inch near my lower lip. a few seconds later, i felt the coffee's cozy heat hovering gently over my cheeks and my nose. i know i can tolerate the hotness now.  i took my first sip. immediately,  relaxing warmth filled the insides of my mouth and my tongue welcomed the bittersweet taste. i took a bigger gulp and swallowed. warmth slid down my throat, caressed my chest, and settled in my abdominal area.

i am gathering pieces of my jigsaw puzzle self. i am becoming whole again.

i silently recited a verse i love from the writings of that great spanish mystic, st. john-of-the-cross:

" the conditions of a solitary bird are five:

first, it flies to the highest point,
second, it does not suffer for company not even of its own kind,
third, it aims its beak to the skies,
fourth, it has no definite color,
fifth, it sings very softly. "


i am whole again.