Hot Winter Coffee

I lingered on the top of the crest, reluctant to leave the skyline view.  My toes were a little numb and my head was starting to ache from the cold.  The vast park stretched out behind me, sleeping in the Winter dawn.  The palace in the distance was dark but the sky was lighting up bright orange behind its ancient walls.  Casting a glow into the blue-black layer above.  The promise of warmth finally won me over and I descended the crooked path to the walking trail.  

This was a true morning of rest.  It had been more than a week since my last sacred stroll through the dark morning silence.  I have learned my way in the blindness of the pre-dawn trees.  Back on the main trail, my footsteps were quick and long.  I had almost turned back in the first icy moments of my trek and now I was eager to get out of the cold.

The metro was chugging to a stop as I waved my pass over the sensor so I hustled down the concrete steps.  The mechanical warmth of the metal trolley was a welcome change and I felt my toes and my nose begin to thaw.  One long stop and I was back on my block, walking downhill to the small cafe.

Luis greeted me as I pulled out a chair and asked if I would have what I always have.  I sat content as my body continued to thaw and the news played silently above my right shoulder.  Luis poured my coffee and added the steaming milk.  His wife Jessy stepped out from the back with a small plate of pan con tomate.  The world was warm and beautiful as I cupped the burning glass with my freezing fingers.  My unchanging neighborhood cafe and the magic of a Winter coffee.