Finding Home in A Cup

Thoughts About The Magic of Warm Drinks — and Where I Source My Favorites

One of the things I struggle with is a sense of ‘home.’ I haven’t lived the sort of life where I grow overly attached to places themselves and my list of moves proves it. The baby astrologer in me clucks her tongue and whispers, ‘typical Sagittarius’, but there’s also good psychological grounding to the feeling. A ‘typical’ home just wasn’t really in the cards for me this time around, and the trend kicked off early.

There’s a little joke I tell people — that while some people will take vacations, I pick up and move every few years to really get to know a place. It’s less joke than true — I’ve moved a lot and been a lot of places. I’ve loved them in their own ways, and grew uncomfortable — or disquieted — enough to have to move for some reason or another. I also joke that I’m like Sam Beckett in Quantum Leap — I’m always hoping my next leap is the leap home. With age, I become less brave and I try to never move to something liminal but somehow it always tends to happen.

I make pilgrimmages to Twede’s Diner (The Double R from Twin Peaks), of course I love coffee. Image Source: Author.

I live in the liminal, and I know I’m not the only one. I often find myself contemplating how does one find the sacred space of home when not having traditional roots?