Monday, July 01, 2013


I was up before 7:00 this morning. I went to bed late, tired from a two-soccer Sunday. But, still, I was awake long before my alarm.

I wasn't mad about it.

I had the sweetest dreams. Dreams that made me smile as I remembered them. Dreams that made me happy while I burrowed back into my comforter, anticipating another hour of sleep. Maybe more.

But I never fell back to sleep and I didn't really care. There was coffee waiting for me downstairs.

Here's the truth about me and coffee: limiting myself to just one cup a day makes me really, really, really appreciate every drop. Starting that cup of coffee is a commitment. I will finish it. I will finish it before it gets cold. And I will enjoy it.

I feel similarly to my summer soccer season. Just nine games every summer, it is by far my favorite soccer of the year. I love the competitiveness. I love my teammates. I love our jerseys. I can't get enough because it isn't enough. Just nine games in the middle of what is always a busy summer.

Which brings me to The Coach. The Coach, with his job 2,000+ miles away. The Coach, who will go before I am ready. Who I will adore from afar. Who I can never quite manage to shake even though maybe I should. Or I should have three summers back, the first time we had to say goodbye.

When you only have one cup per day, you savor it.

When you only have one season per year, you worship it.

When you only have a handful of weeks every few months, you cherish it.    


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