Espressode

Every morning without fail, you greet me with quiet, accepting patience as I plod into the kitchen, half-awake, questionably dressed, and barely sentient.

You know what’s coming—a flurry of pokes, prods, and presses—and yet you never protest. Perhaps you’re even a little smug, knowing I trust you to enliven my day.

Our ritual begins with the push of your power button, a gentle awakening for us both. You hum softly, warming your internals as I prepare for the alchemy to come. 

With the press of another button, a coffee-free burst of hot water flows out of you, an offering to yourself and the gods; a warming embrace for the portafilter that will soon cradle 18.7 grams of finely-ground, carefully-measured perfection.

While your internals warm and ready themselves, I turn to another task:

Placating Yuki’s morning demands, filling her bowl with the mish-mash that is cat food, absorbing her plaintive cries and mischievous attempts to commandeer the morning’s spotlight. She often perches behind you, a silent and curious observer, her eyes fixed on my every move and her ears attuned to your every hum and rumble. If you have opinions about this furry kitchen critic, you keep them to yourself.

Then comes the moment I’ve been waiting for—the culmination of our efforts:

With Yuki happily crunching and munching, the beans ground, leveled, and tamped—I lock the portafilter into place, request another shot of you, and you work your magic. Watching you perform never gets old. That first flow of espresso, thick and syrupy, curling into the cup below…

The aroma filling the air, rich and inviting, promising the clarity and comfort I seek.

You’re more than a machine. You’re a gift—a token of love from Alicia, who understood my espresso woes in the early days of cabin life. You anchor my mornings, turning them into a steady rhythm of preparation and presence. 

With you, I don’t just make coffee, but a cherished ritual.

And while you’ve never complained, I sometimes imagine what you might say if you could. Perhaps something along the lines of, “Here comes the sleepy espresso sotted bastard again to press and poke my buttons.”

Setting aside your mild-mannered irritation, I like to think there’s a silent camaraderie between us, built upon countless mornings spent in co-creation, of shared focus and quiet achievement. So here’s to many more mornings spent together—the clarity we brew amidst the comfort of your steady hum.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

(AKA: Wiz, WOW, and The Wizard of Wordcraft)