Coffee Hug

#11/365

She was the kind of girl when asked to do the dishes by her mother, only washed the coffee pot and grinder. Her first business was born at 8 years old when she planted a secret coffee tree in the family greenhouse. She harvested the beans and used wrapping papers she’d saved from Christmas that year to package them and deliver them to her neighbors — first as gifts and then for 25 cents a piece. Soon, the neighbors were leaving her $1.00 and then $2.00 in tiny envelopes. Even the ‘mean’ neighbors were charmed by her passion for the bean.

She left home at 18, moved to Hawaii, became a hippie and opened a Kona Coffee and Papaya stand. She had a knack for episodic advertising. In the course of a week the signs in front of the stand might have looked something like this:

“I love coffee, coffee gets me.”

“When my love for life is less, coffee restores me.”

“When I can’t sleep, I drink coffee and write sonnets.”

“When my boyfriend is angry at me, coffee doesn’t judge me.”

“After I’ve been mugged, coffee gives me a hug.”

“When I leave for Mexico, Brazil or Africa in search of new coffee flavors coffee is my expert consultant.”

“Do yourself a favor, stop and get a coffee hug.”