~Short Story~

I woke up late.

Sleep has been avoiding me in the last few months. The hours would tick into the darkness of the night. I would be left staring at my ceiling watching the thoughts float aimlessly inside of my head. When sleep would finally find me, it was restless with dreams I could never remember. In years past I would have put on Netflix or maybe browsed YouTube to aid sleep, but I no longer had access to such luxuries.

My back was aching more than usual and I took full advantage of the birthday excuse to stay in my warm bed. Around ten or so I finally kicked my legs out of the worn covers and onto the cold wooden floor. I winced a little to the cold but kept my momentum going as I headed towards the wood stove.

Distant memories of a natural gas furnace teased the back of my mind as I was loading the stove.

‘More luxuries I no longer had access to’

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I contemplated my old definition of luxury. It all seemed so far away at this point, perhaps not more than a dream, I could no longer be certain.

With the fire started, and warmth slowly trickling into my small hut, I set about putting water on to boil. I still had access to one small luxury, and today I would enjoy a rare embellishment. Carefully opening my last bag of coffee, I placed my nose near the opening and inhaled deeply. The deep rich aroma of this artisan-blended coffee filled my lungs as well as my soul. I exhaled slowly with a soft pleasant hum.

“Hmmmmm”

Such a simple thing, yet at this moment I could not imagine a greater pleasure. I very carefully reached into the bottom of the bag and scrapped out the last spoonful of the ground beans. My heart sank slightly as I realized this could be my last birthday coffee. I quickly dismissed such feelings. These days it did no good to dwell on such things, I refocused instead on what I did have.

“To sour what you have, with desires for what you have not is very foolish indeed.”

I spoke these words aloud. It was good to hear a voice from time to time even if it was just my own. Isolation can be a hard thing to bear. Once again I stopped myself, no point dwelling on things I cannot change.

With great care, I sprinkled the last scoop of coffee into the softly boiling water. The heavenly aroma immediately intensified. As my hut filled with the rich scent, I was filling with excitement. It had been exactly a year’s time since I had experienced coffee. I forgot how exhilarating the experience could be.

Memories again flickered in the background of my thoughts. Long ago, in an age of excess and gluttony, I remembered how little I thought of these experiences. How little attention was paid to all the luxuries I never knew enough to enjoy at the time.

“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got till it’s gone”

Joni’s angelic voice sang through my thoughts.

My breath caught on a lump in my throat. Tears welled in my eyes. I shook my head and again pushed those thoughts down. I could not bear to face the torment, not today. It was my birthday, I was celebrating what little I had left. I did not wish to celebrate with these ghosts in my head.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I stirred my brewing coffee. My excitement had somewhat deflated with the intrusion of such abusive thoughts. I took a deep breath and again tried to focus on the pleasing experience of making coffee.

Grabbing the little blackened pot I removed it from the stovetop. Being careful not to spill any I headed towards my little makeshift table. A morning beam of light shone through the dirty dusty window. The light shone through the haze in the air landing on the rough wooden tabletop. I set my coffee in the spot of light. The steam rose up and flicked the air in a tantalizing motion.

Once again I took in a deep breath, trying to savor the experience. I was very aware that this could potentially be the last coffee I would ever taste. The last relic of a time I have tried desperately to hang onto. The burden of holding so much in my mind was certainly taking its toll. The human mind is a powerful thing and can keep alive illusions of things that have long since died.

“Just dust and echoes.”

My words fell flat and empty. The bitter taste they left on my tongue burned as more tears fought to escape my control. I wrestled with myself to regain composure. The practice of avoidance was becoming increasingly burdensome. Forcing my attention out of my head and back towards my coffee I made a hasty attempt to breathe. A full breath would not be had, the air kept catching in my lungs as years of buried emotions boiled just beneath the surface.

Persisting to find enjoyment in my steaming coffee, I reached for the old tin mug. I kept it by the window on a rusty nail where I had found it all those years ago. Grabbing it hastily, I blew the dust out of the bottom and not so gently placed it beside my coffee.

“You have waited all year for this, why not enjoy?”

Scolding myself never helped, but old ways are not easily changed once a certain momentum has built.

Now somewhat anxious, I splashed my coffee into the mug. I recoiled at the amount I spilled but hastened to bring the liquid to my lips. This would fix everything, this would make my life worth living. Feeling the warmth of the coffee under my nose I reached for a sip.

I woke up late.

The End