“That’s a bolder blend. You don’t even need cream it’s so flavorful!” Sean exclaims. I respect my oldest brother, so I drank my gourmet coffee black this particular morning.  He goes on to tell me the proper amount of coarsely ground coffee to add to my French press.  It’s Christmas day.  I find myself with Sean once again talking about coffee.  I’m more knowledgeable upon the subject now, but still nowhere in comparison to my barista of a brother.  I slowly pour almost-boiling water into the carafe, meticulously directing the stream to cover all of the grounds.  Sean doesn’t say anything.  I can tell he’s impressed.  My brother, the staff supervisor at Starbucks, thinks he’s working:

“Remember you have to wait–”

“Four minutes right right right…” I interrupt my brother.  I know more than he thinks.  Whenever he would make coffee, my eyes followed his motions.  Everything from measurements to the proper grind made its way into my head. Through this observation, I learned more about java.  However, this isn’t to say that I didn’t learn anything else.

In my opinion, coffee possesses more purposes than jolting people in the morning. The drink brings people together.  It can also make a person more attentive to the minuscule details of a subject. It is in this sense that drinking coffee taught me how to explore my environment in a new way. Whether it’s through people-watching here in Amherst, or connecting with my older brother in my kitchen, coffee has made me a more observant person.  I suppose some people would say I’m too judgmental by analyzing these strangers, but I’m just doing it for fun.  As I explore the various hints in my drink, I attempt to decipher the intricacies of the people around me.  While reading a book, I search for the subtleties that go overlooked by others.  While writing, I think of words I don’t often use.  During any action, I try to find an aspect that intrigues me.  I find life more interesting when you discover that there’s more than just the first sip, so to speak.

The girl walks away from the counter to wait for her drink.  I notice her hair is a collage of colors that do not match whatsoever.  She picks up her cell phone and begins to talk about a boy who, apparently, she detests.  I press play on my Ipod and mute her voice for the time being, only focusing on the taste of my drink.  Is that a hint of cherry I taste?