Coffee Tales, Chapter 7: “Monique Janae”
By Myron J. Clifton
Monique drinks a Skinny Caramel Frappuccino with extra Caramel. I tried Monique’s drink this week. Here is my review.
This drink is full. Full of sweetness that lures its friend into a sublime spell of joined interests and sugary slopes of caramel that glides and slides through one’s insides awakening the sleepiest cells, atoms, and neurons that are floating around one’s brain and body trying to do as they are created to do.
It is a drink that may just be.. maybe… the exact opposite of a lemon and lemonade. The sweet yin to lemonade’s testy yang. Two eternal partners forever intertwined trying to come together in peace and harmony but forever separate and distinct in their purposes, desires, and wishes.
The drink then, is a drink that stands alone while sneakily amused by the drinkers who dare to add the word “skinny” before a drink that ends with the towering words that are banned by parents, cursed by teachers, dreaded by babysitters, and feared by movie theatres: “Extra Caramel.”
Swimming through Monique’s drink and the smooth thick caramel that served as an excellent transportation vehicle that one can also lick and drink, I floated away in a blissful state that was full of candy cane clouds, lollipop lamps, and bouncing balls of gumdrops.
An experience that was either all in my mind, or the product of being in the company of such a wonderful drink that all the problems of the past faded away to oblivion where they belong.
Like being with Monique.
But the drink isn’t done, because while it laughs and giggles as it escorts you to the world of blissful gumdrops, it reaches an end and…drops you off and now you’re left to ponder things that reside deep within one’s psyche always seeking space in the conscious no matter how one tries to keep those dark shades drawn. For behind those shades can be sadness, pain, loss, more pain, and unbearable yet familiar loneliness resulting from a loss so powerful that the entire universe seems empty.
A type of loneliness that must be addressed and respected daily.
Just a little bit every single day to fill a wound that begs for attention.
The drink – this Skinny Caramel Frappuccino – has one last surprise though and in that surprise might be its greatest strength.
That surprise is a reason kids are taught about delayed gratification; it is why adults are admonished to save for a rainy day; and it is why we save our favorite part of an excellent meal for the last bite. Because we can see an invisible future that has something good waiting for us.
Some call it a type of Karma. Others, The Golden Rule. And still others, The Laws of Attraction.
The first three ingredients play, fight, and wrestle like three older brothers, who also do the same in a small home surrounded by trees of Oak, never ending fog, and unbelievable beauty (if you know where to find it), whether in the flats or in the hills that reach the sky.
This drink though, and the surprise at the end, gives those dueling brothers something so soft and sweet that it took the Mother twenty-nine years to deliver: Caramel.
And in this drink, caramel represents the sweet arrival of hope. Hope.
Like Monique was to her Mother, who had only one hope: A girl as sweet as caramel after so many years of dueling, wrestling, stinky boys.
Hope then, is a singularly powerful word and feeling which, at its simplest, means: Summoning personal goodness and happiness from our own futures.
I will drink Monique’s drink and all its blissful caramel the next time I’m looking for a reminder of dueling brothers and a long-lost Mother because Monique’s drink, like Monique, carries all that joy, pain, and fun, and wraps it up in a powerful word of love and expectation: Hope.
Copyright 2018, Dear Dean Publishing, All Rights Reserved