Coffee, Cream and

I was confident 2020 and Covid had not made any earth shaking changes in my immediate routine.

Not I, I rationalized. I have always been too careful about minutiae, almost paranoid about germs and reclusive enough to avoid any unwanted contact.

Then two things opened my heavy lidded eyes.

This morning when I opened my closet planning to finally relinquish a few of the aged inhabitants to a new life optimistically, named “recycle,” I felt a distinct shock.

I suppose reality always does that. However, when I spotted the tangerine coat I loved hanging abandoned in the dark right hand corner, I knew how drastically my life had changed with COVID.

It is not an expensive coat, rather to quote the salesperson, “What a Bargain.”. And indeed it was, mostly because of the wonderful color.

I felt embraced with the joys of autumn and trembled on the verge of welcoming winter whenever I wore it. And I wore it often mostly because the coat, not I, received so many compliments.

This year it hangs limply, almost insulted at not being welcomed even once before the first snowflakes melted on my windowpane.

While dwelling on this not so subtle change in lifestyle, I retreated to my always and forever comfort zone, a cup of coffee. Without even thinking, I opened the fridge, and poured a dollop of heavy cream into the Portmellion mug.

It was then I knew how shattered my solitary world had become. The year I was 19, I began drinking coffee black. That was because, along with everyone else I knew that memorable year, I had become fixated with The Original Mayo Clinic Diet. I eventually forgot the lamb chops and grapefruit, but never returned to cream in my coffee, until Covid changed my life, my world and my complacency.

And there is always so very much more to learn even when the road winds down.