art / novel / writing

Can’t Write on Empty

my empty cup

One day, we ran out of the coffee pods for our coffee maker. We had our French press, but the coffee grinder broke too. I heard clattering in the kitchen. Looking in, I saw my son, six-years-old, standing on a wine box, a mortar and pestle in his hands, grinding the coffee beans himself. “I’m making you coffee, Mom.”

Sometimes I feel like I could hand grind coffee for the entire book world, but nobody is going to run up and kiss me.

*

And since you can’t kiss me, you could go to Words Are Art, and see the CD I did the cover and inserts for.

4 thoughts on “Can’t Write on Empty

  1. Oh my gosh, what a sweet boy! That is so cute! šŸ˜€ What a great story!

    Hey, if you wanna hand grind me some coffee, I’ll run up and kiss you! LOL

    And that picture is pure horror you know. šŸ˜‰

    • The only reason that picture doesn’t horrify me is that I know the cup got filled with coffee soon after.

      And yes, my boy is a sweetie. He also knows how mom is like without coffee!

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