Little Big Things

Coffee is love.

My ex-husband and I tried marriage counselling at one point and the therapist suggest we practise small acts of kindness to show our support for one another. I worked two jobs from home at the time and sometimes couldn’t get away from my desk to even grab a cup of coffee for hours on end. When she asked what support looked like for each of us, I offered that bringing me a coffee now and then would really make my day. I felt pure delight when I saw him walk in the room the very next morning holding a steaming hot mug for me. He had paid attention! I had been heard! He was following the advice of a professional counsellor!

But then he slammed the cup down on my desk beside me and said “Here’s your fucken coffee. I don’t know how this is supposed to fix our marriage? I’m not going back to that therapist.”

Needless to say, that exercise didn’t work out for us. And the coffee had a strong bitter aftertaste.

Fast forward a few years where I’m separated from him and in a new happy relationship with Bryan. I hadn’t shared that story with Bry but one morning shortly after we began dating, I woke up to the sound of a fresh pot brewing. I entered the kitchen to find my mug on the counter, and the sugar had already been put into it. He had taken the time to make me coffee and prep my cup for me. I didn’t expect this to evoke any emotion, but I cried a little for the struggle my ex felt when doing this same task for me.

This is what love looks like for me. Little gestures that have a grand impact.

His alarm goes off at 5am and I stay in bed until he gets himself together for work. The scent of coffee fills the air each and every morning, and I start my day off with gratitude for these efforts. I rise once he has left, and am greeted by the warmth of the fresh brew. My yellow mug sits beside the pot with a spoon sticking out of the top, all ready to be poured into and stirred- sugar measured and all. Little big things.