One of my family's great traditions is coffee in the morning. Every day, long before dawn, my mother would get up to do her chores, set up a pot of coffee in the kitchen and start organizing her things.

From her generous hands everyone received their first coffee of the day. My mother would put it in her hands and tell everyone to sit down at the dining room table to receive breakfast.

The first cup was always given to my father, who left very early for work, then it was my brothers' turn, according to the order in which they got up. I always got the last cup because I was the one who got up the latest. Sometimes my mother, so as not to give me overheated coffee, would brew it again for her and me.

That order remained that way until I started my university studies. At that time the University was quite far from my house, I had to take two buses to cover the long journey. Buses were scarce and always full. The trip was very tiring, heavy and seemed endless because of the many stops. Most of the time it took me more than hours to get to my classes.

In those days my routine was to leave very early and return very late, I was totally disconnected from the rhythm of the house. I barely exchanged a word with my parents and knew little about my siblings' lives.

One of the times I would talk to my mother was before I left for school. She would get up earlier than usual to prepare breakfast for me, fix me an arepa to take with me and give me very hot coffee. While I drank it, she would ask me questions about my studies, about how I was doing. Those conversations would only take a few minutes because I would be running out the door so I wouldn't be late.

As the years went by, the time to have that first cup of coffee changed. When I started my first job, my work was a bit far away and I had to leave very early. In those years my wife was studying and working different shifts, many times she would get up after I had left.

Even though I got up early, I was always late and I didn't have time to prepare coffee, so I had to drink it wherever I could. Sometimes I would drink it at the passenger terminal while I was waiting for the bus to work; other times, I would drink it a few minutes before classes started in the cafeteria of the high school where I worked. That first coffee in the cafeteria was very pleasant because I shared it in pleasant conversations with my co-workers. I have always enjoyed drinking coffee while talking to people.

What I have never had is the habit of having that first coffee in bed. I admit that I am a bit prejudiced about this. It is easier for me to associate coffee in bed with illness than with comfort.

This is perhaps due to the fact that in my family the only time someone drank coffee in bed was when they were sick, that was a coffee that was almost always drunk alone or with the company of the person attending the sick person, that image remained in my memories.

I got used to associate that first coffee of the day with the beginning of some activity, it is as if it was the trigger to get moving, that is why it is always taken standing up or sitting down, never in bed.

At other times of the day I have had my coffee while in bed. Sometimes on a cold, rainy afternoon I'll have a cup of hot coffee with me while I'm lying down reading a good book or watching something on TV.

Thank you for your time.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version).

All your comments are welcome on this site. I will read them with pleasure and dedication.

Until the next delivery. Thank you.

The photos, the digital edition and the Gifs are of my authorship.

Logo creado por @themanualbot