Short Story of the Day: April 2

EMPTY GLASS OF BLENDED COFFEE (APRIL 2, 2013)

On the table there you lie. And empty glass of blended coffee.

You satisfied me. If only briefly.

Somehow, I always drink you too fast. And I don't enjoy you.

I was too busy typing to appreciate the sweetness of the whipped cream that you wore as your hat.

I was too preoccupied with Facebook to realize that your caffeine was keeping my eyes focused on the screens in front of me. Clicking away. Stalking this person. And that.

All that's left is the residue.

A mixture of sugars, melting ice, ground filtered espresso.

And the straw.

The straw leans towards me, as if beckoning for one last sip.

That last sip which leaves on extremely dissatisfied, as it is more melted ice and less coffee.

I'm sorry.

I should have enjoyed you.

Your life was too short. Too quick.

I guess one minute in human years is, maybe, 5 years in coffee years.

You were one moment short of turning 100.

I remember when I first bought you.

I was craving you. I needed you. I couldn't work without you.

And then I had you.

And then I forgot. And now that you are gone, I know I will crave you again.

But you are gone. And I will have to find another cup, at another place, at another time.

I will probably forget about you, as I just did as I was drinking you.

But I shouldn't. You gave me the calories I needed for the moment. You were a part of my history.

If I had a historian follow me, you would be included in the chapter about the coffee shops I've been to.

Funny.

About a year and a half ago, my grandpa died. My abuelito.

He lived to be over 90 years old. Many years. Many memories.

Yet it happened so quick.

I was so occupied with work. With friends. With my daily routine.

I was occupied with the lusts of the world.

All the while, he was there, slowly fading, but there.

There was a time when a visit was as fresh as the coffee moments after its birth from the steel machine.

But then I forgot to enjoy the time I had.

The impact he made in my life goes beyond the impact that a blended coffee had on my moment at the coffee shop.

Yet sometimes, I treat the memory of the impact the same way.  Tossed in the background of the daily grind.  Placed at the end of a table, and only approached when convenient.

Funny.

How an empty cup of blended coffee could convict me of my sin of omission. How it could show me the errors of my ways. The errors of my days.

Time to slow down. Enjoy those around me. Enjoy those who love me. And never forget those who, while no longer here, made great impacts of who I am today.

And I'll start by enjoying another glass of blended coffee.