We all have rituals and mine is coffee in bed, made by my husband of course....
There are very few mornings that go by when this does not happen... He is traveling (and I have to make it myself) or we are both travelling and he goes to the nearest coffee shop. I am truly both spoiled and lucky.
But aside from that...
 |
| Ritual |
| For I have known them all already, known them all: | |
| Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, | 50 |
| I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; | |
| I know the voices dying with a dying fall | |
| Beneath the music from a farther room. | |
| So how should I presume? T.S. Eliot The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock |
As for measuring my life out with coffee spoons this is a true thing. So many |
life events revolve, change and slip away but I can attach them to this one ritual.
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