This afternoon, 4 o’clock. Our kitchen. Outside, raining. Inside, Lydia and I, the afterschool chat.
Lydia: Mrs. M. is giving up coffee. (Mrs. M. is a teacher.)
Jane: Really??? (voice rising, incredulous) Why?
Lydia: Yeah. Because it’s bad for you.
Jane: No, it’s not.
Lydia: IT’S ADDICTING.
Jane: Right. But it’s not bad for you.
Lydia: Mom, it’s addicting.
Jane: Lydia, I couldn’t get through my life if I couldn’t drink coffee.
Lydia giggles. It opens up into laughter. I’ve surprised her! This is a wonderful thing, when serious Lydia laughs. Her voice is a bell, a pretty one.
Lydia: Do you hear what you’re saying?
Jane: Yes.
Lydia: I’m not going to drink coffee until I’ve reached my full height and stopped growing.
Jane: Really? Okay, let’s have this conversation again when you’re sixteen.
Which is when I started depending on, er, I mean, drinking it.
(But I didn’t have any this afternoon. I didn’t.)
leaf stitch word 
I am jealous of your afternoon chats.
I love non-busy Fridays. Anyway… Remember your quote from a dozen or so years ago:
“A bad cup of coffee is better than a good cup of tea.”
weren’t we talking once about the last thing we each think of, before falling asleep at night, and it was that first delicious sip of coffee to come in the morning??
Sal, while I still reach for a cup of coffee over anything else, I have become more open to good tea. Marcia, I feel so happy when, around 11 o’clock at night, I walk by the coffee pot and see that Jimmy has already set it up for the morning (and he doesn’t even drink it). The anticipation…
Emily, please come by some afternoon and join us for a chat.
p.s. All, it’s 6pm on Saturday night, and I’m at the kitchen table, having a cup. Ah.