The First Sip

In the midst of life’s challenges, it can be helpful to find a simple pleasure to nurture relaxation and peace. Writer Johanna Wald found hers in “the first sip.”

In early 2021, I was 64 years old, frantically trying to nab Covid vaccine appointments for myself, my husband, and my daughter, and approaching the first anniversary of lockdowns, masks, social distancing and Zoom calls. A sitting President had just attempted an insurrection, the pandemic was still raging, and the country was in upheaval – over racial justice, mask mandates, a limited vaccine supply, and the election. I hadn’t seen my son, who was living in Australia, in over a year, and it was unclear when he’d get home. My work life was in limbo: I wasn’t working full-time, but I wasn’t retired either, and I was unsure which direction I was headed.

Those events accelerated my entry into a “savor the small moments because it could all end tomorrow” phase of life. My cup of morning coffee became one of the few daily actions I could control and rely upon. I embraced that reality, and conceded that my first sip could be, and often was, the highlight of my day.

Since then, making coffee every morning has become something of a sacred ritual. Through trial and error, I have stumbled upon my own perfect blend of brand, strength, and complements. I alternate between Keurig pods of Peet’s Sumatra and Peet’s Midtown Roast. One is robust and sharp, the other smooth and mellow.

Both are divine.

I have found my ideal vessel – a round, shiny, multi-colored ceramic mug. I pour half and half into the mug (no need to measure, I can gauge the right amount by sight), mix in one packet of Stevia, slip the mug under the Keurig machine, and watch as the color of the liquid flowing into the mug turns the ideal shade of light brown.

Then I stare at this steaming cup of pure pleasure and marvel. Sometimes I feel like a child on the first day of summer vacation. I haven’t had time yet to grow bored or restless, hot, sticky, or disappointed. I haven’t started fretting about it coming to an end. Rather, it beckons before me in all its potential delight.

My first sip never disappoints. It is creamy, comforting, soothing, and just a tad jolting, all at the same time. I feel my throat tingle and spring to life, my sleepy muscles twitch awake, and the cobwebs in my brain start to clear out. My shoulders and face relax. I sigh.

Clutching my mug of liquid bliss like a security blanket, I turn on the computer. By pacing myself, I can nurse this one cup through the checking of e-mails, the daily news assault, and the completion of Wordle, Spelling Bee, and Connections. If I feel overwhelmed, lost, confused, or stumped, I pause, take a sip, and breathe.

After I have extracted the last drop, I feel temporarily deflated. It’s over. But then I remember, in just 23 hours, I can experience this all over again.

Johanna Wald is a freelance writer living in Dedham, MA. She has been published in slate.com, Huffington Post, and several literary magazines.

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