coffee and cosmos

I am beginning to enjoy library coffee.

If you don't go to Waynesburg, then you don't understand why this is revolutionary. The coffee in the library, while it's free, is disgusting. It's always old from sitting on the warmer all day and has a burnt aftertaste.

A burnt whole-time-your-drinking-taste really.

But there's something about a certain familiarity when you've been gone from a place for so long that sparks appreciation. And then goodness. And then longing.

When I was in Australia, I wanted library coffee. With one powdered creamer and one sweet-n-low in a white styrofoam cup that I'd complain were killing the environment. I don't even like sweet-n-low. And now as I sit here and drink it, I yearn to wander the streets of Petersham until I find my way to the city. An excuse to mindlessly listen to 40 minutes of my ipod on the Inner West Line train until I get to downtown Sydney. Now, I walk on High Street in Waynesburg and long to see the Harbour Bridge in full view as I get off the train at Circular Quay and make my way through the crowd. I always take the stairs on the left. Once my transit pass clears at the turnabout, I turn right.

There, I find coffee. Familiarity, once again. Deep breath. A home in exile for which I sing my hallelujahs when it's existence is revealed. I sit and read C.S. Lewis and drink skinny caps for 3.50AUD a piece. Consistency. Finally. Everything is peaceful. While the chaos within me rang loud like a bell on a steeple, I sipped slowly, ignoring the time. Disorder somehow fit into order. Like human structure was woven this way so we could survive. Like someone knew.

Cosmos.

Coffee.

But what is it that I truly long for? God would be too easy of an answer.