I went to Siena, Italy this morning. It was a quick trip. I was there for less than a minute, but it was worth it. It was beautiful. It gave me what I needed to get the kids off to school.
My mom and I took a trip to Europe three years ago, and one of the highlights for me was Italian coffee. In Siena we stayed in a converted convent and were awakened every morning by church bells and pigeons. We would walk sleepily down the hall to breakfast. A stone faced Italian woman would come out of the kitchen with two kettles in her hand. One coffee, one hot milk. She poured the kettles of hot liquid into my cup and transformed me into a new woman.
So this morning, I heated my half n’ half and poured the hot cream into my cup of hot coffee. I was transported right back to Siena and the stone faced woman was smiling at me this morning in my kitchen.
I paused, breathed in the aroma, savored the flavor, was grateful for the hotness on my tongue.
Heating the cream was all the coffee needed to transform from something ordinary into something delizioso. Taking me away from the moment into a great memory.
I was transported from the moment of packing lunches, frying eggs, and filling water bottles into a moment of joy, not just a past memory. But right in front of me I found joy in the routine, all from taking a second to heat the milk.
by J.G. McGlothern