“It’s Saturday, Saturday…”
We like a milder roast for our
Saturday morning coffee. It
is the only day I grind beans.
It is a mild cup of “Joe” on this
special day. Anniversary day.
Joe is so mild, my normal
amount of cream turns it
lighter than tan.
We always have breakfast
together. We’ve been through
a lot; but we’ve never stopped
having our sweet breakfast
together. A loving tradition
For her, her usual piece of
toast. Lightly toasted with
almond butter. I cut her ounce
of Jarlsberg as thin as I can.
Our daily breakfast dishes are
solids in pastels and such. Our
Saturday ones look like paintings
of old Camembert labels in blues,
greens, and reds.
I cut my half ounce of Dubliner
and put out butter and the apricot
preserves I like on my single matzo
cracker. I add a few thin small
slices of hard salami to my plate.
I use the same cup almost every
day; she does not. She picks one
with floral designs, warms her
Silk milk for fifteen seconds and
pours her Joe. We sit and give
Our sweet breakfast is filled with
a special gift for each, reflections,
tears of joy, and lots of laughter.
And we give thanks for another
year of life and love together. So,
there it is; we sip mild Joe on
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)