“All you need is the Columbian sun. and rich Columbian coffee…”

The first hour of my day probably isn’t pretty. I’m bald, so bedhead makes me look like I have corduroy for skin. I stumble into the kitchen and make strong coffee by instinct because thought is beyond me. If you encounter the uncaffeinated me in the wild, do not approach. While my anti-murder juice is brewing, I’ll stumble around confused and scratching myself. After the first cup I can usually manage more than a grunt and clothing if I haven’t done so yet. By the third, I’m human again. By the end of the first pot, I’ll be able to face the world.

I like to blame a lot of things on growing up in a Cajun house. I started drinking coffee at about 3 years old, cafe au’ late. Now, it’s strong and black with a touch of sugar. Now it’s a habit of almost 60 years. That’s what my morning looks like a cup of coffee. Well, a lot of cups of coffee.

Daily writing prompt

What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?

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