I have to have my Starbucks. I'm drawn to the little green logo whenever I see it along the roadways and highways. The green logo sign replaced the sight of the McDonald's Golden Arches long ago. You know the giant yellow "M" you'd see traveling down the road, causing your glands to salivate. You'd beg one of the rational parents to stop in hopes of some French fries only to be told, "No, there's nothing they have that I can't cook at home."
The green and white sign is as lucky to find as any four-leaf clover you may stumble upon in a pasture out on a leisurely stroll. The mermaid's face smiling because she knows she has you. The squiggly lines that make up her hair get me caught in a trance, speaking to me, convincing me, "Chris, turn your grey minivan in here. Drown your misery and sorrow in my perfectly great tasting white mocha, extra hot with one Splenda, or how about a hot Vanilla Chi or maybe a Carmel Macchiato."
How I have to make that turn. "Oh," my little green mermaid says, "I forgot the light whip." She had me at "Chris."
I have invested more money in that little green sign in the last few months. More than I care to remind myself by looking at my bank statement. It is the one thing I look forward to when I head out and about with the boys. The one thing my mouth takes comfort in as I take a sip from the white top that is made perfectly for my pursed lips. Because of the hot liquid that is begging to come out, I gently place my tongue in the hole to avoid losing a single drop as I tilt her up, allowing gravity to let her flow to me. Once I feel the warmth of the liquid from those grounded cocoa beans on the tip of my tongue, I remove it from the oval hole punched on the top of the lid, allowing her warmth to enter me and drown my sorrows away.
I close my eyes as my body heats up. Sweat beads on my brow and trickle down my face. I wipe it away using my shirt. She's not done yet; I have yet to taste her whipped cream. It's the best part. Just the right amount to sweeten my latte and liven my day. It doesn't get any better than that.
After a few sips, I adjust her brown cardboard sleeve to line up with the rest of the cup because I want to keep her white skin modest. The brown cover slides down like a slip, but the strapless cover isn't too revealing; it is just enough to tease but enough to see the white cup.
The cup is still too hot to touch, so I only grab her when ready. I bring her to me slow and steady, careful not to manhandle her as I bring her in so I don't get burned if she accidentally pours out.
I have enjoyed her a few times but needed more of her this time, so I ordered a venti. I know deep down I still haven't received my fill, but she's still giving me her all until the last drop. Starbucks has plenty of stores around, and I am always on the prowl, ready to enjoy my next latte, which helps me find comfort because life has me feeling down.
Once I've finished the pleasure of her company indicated by her empty cup, I know I'll reminisce about how tasty she was because of her constant reminder that will tingle and tease my taste buds to the point that I'll have no choice but to seek out the little green mermaid that dots the shopping plazas and strip malls along the landscape to experience her once again.
It's in times of my grieving I have to seek out the love in something that can bring me some comfort. And now I just need the love of my Starbucks because she pours her passion into me without fail every single time.
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Above image found here: http://hawaiiccw.com/news/support-starbucks-valentines-day/
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