SUNDAY MORNING COFFEE

It's unbelievable! I hold command of 15 tables - my own strewn with the crumbled wrapper of an inhaled breakfast sandwich, plastic yogurt container licked clean, a cloth bag from India harbouring a notebook, my Bible, and a novel that I anticipate rather reluctantly as the last eleven pages of my current read leave me hungry for more.

 Slowly sipping my coffee I glance at my watch. Eight minutes have elapsed before I hear a chair scrape across the tile floor. He sits hidden behind the recycle/waste station and I remain seemingly alone, absorbed in "Garlic and Sapphires", the secret life of a food critic for the New York Times, by Ruth Reichl. This delicious read is a taste of sunshine on a dreary February morning. My mouth waters as gourmet delicacies, created in high profile dining establishments, priced way beyond the frugal corners of my pocketbook are described with the brush of an artist dancing across a canvas of china dinner plates.

 Ten minutes pass swiftly, and with a rustle the unseen patron slips out, and with the rush of outside air is replaced by an elderly couple who settle behind an opaque glass divider, their heads bowed and bobbing as they murmur softly over their Sunday morning coffee. Business picks up and I am distracted and entertained by the comings and goings of the unstoppable tide of this Canadian coffee culture. I must say, I'm becoming comfortable, content, and  accustomed to these solitary, early, Sunday morning coffee breaks - my table, my books, my pen and my imagination. 

Back with my nose in my book I salivate through paragraphs dripping with colourful coulis, Pate' de Foie Gras, rich wine infused sauces and sinfully decadent desserts. All these descriptive words have me wondering if I could savour my next bite of food with a new awareness, a sensual surprise in my mouth.

120 minutes have quickly slipped by and it's time to move on to the interactive community of my church family. The coffee pot is on there as well, but I might choose sweetened tea to stimulate my senses to engage in this, my favourite Sunday morning feast of worship and inspiration.