The comfort of coffee


As I look around the apartment, I’m hard-pressed to find anything that wasn’t acquired here, that dates back to my life in New Orleans and other cities. When Sam and I arrived here, three years ago today, six weeks after our wedding, it was with just a few suitcases and boxes. We left most of our belongings at my parents’ house, with the idea that we’d be gone for only a couple of years. Every spring, I would think, “If we can just make it through this year’s hurricane/flooding season….” On this most recent visit there, I didn’t even bother to go through my things to see if there was anything I wanted to bring back, thinking I would be reunited with them soon enough. I guess the soon enough wasn’t soon enough.

But just now, as I got some ice from the freezer, my eyes fell upon a bag of coffee from PJ’s, a New Orleans business I grew up with. Even though I’m not drinking coffee these days, it’s comforting knowing it’s there. And it’s made all the more (bitter)sweet thinking about the fact that it was given to us by my brother when he was working at one of the cafes, which is likely now flooded.


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