The small things in life

It's not often I get up early on a Sunday morning. Usually I am going to bed in the early hours after a Saturday night. But today we have a hockey match and last night was a quiet one with a book. There is one small thing that brought a little smile to my face an hour or so ago. Italian coffee.

Putting on the moka and filling it with a fine Italian Lavazza blend, waiting for the bubbling, chugga-chugga sound as the air-hole tells you the tar brew is ready. The small shot of morning caffeine is what I need to get me going. It is the cherry on top of the breakfast and it lingers in your mouth. But not only does it linger like that. As I sauntered outside to take out some rubbish to the street bins, the sun rising up in the sky and gradually working its spell over the early morning chill, I stepped back inside to a spell of my own. It is something you only notice if you step outside and come back in; a different view point. The aroma from the moka greeted me, filling my small apartment and warming the air within the walls - a unique kind of central heating in its own right. It was like it was whispering to come back inside while there is a chill out there. Such a small thing sat on the hob in my kitchen, but so much significance to my day it brings.

Simple small things. Just like a smile. If someone just simply beams at you, how can you not smile back? I think it is a natural reaction just to smile back.

I have an hour to kill before we have to meet for the match, so here I am writing about such a simple, small thing. Maybe I could have another. I can see it right now out the corner of my eye in the kitchen, still giving off its aroma and smiling at me. Saying to me 'come and make another one...use me, unscrew me, empty me and fill me again'. My smile has become a wry grin as I sit here at my laptop.

Stop smiling at me like that, I'm trying to write here.