When I saw the girl writing your name on the chalkboard at the Target Starbucks, my heart began to dance and sing. I knew it wouldn’t be long. As much as I tried to wait until the temperature dropped to at least below 80 degrees, I cannot wait any longer.
Hello, my love. Hello my cinnamon friend, my autumn companion, my cup of frothy October. Your presence is a promise of fall, your steam whispers sweaters, football and bonfires. You are 16 ounces of liquid pie. And even though you are small, you bring so much joy and happiness to all who meet you.
I am sorry I tried to replace you with the International Delight impostor. True, he is more financially savvy than you. And he is willing to live in the midst of harsh conditions on the door of my fridge: the constant opening and closing; the blinking lights; the leftovers inches away. Although he is always available to me, standing tall between the ketchup and the Italian dressing…he is not you.
I love you, Pumpkin Spice Latte. I am so glad you are back.
Emily
*An appropriate re-post from September 2008 because, you know, it is that time of year. Hallelujah and Amen.
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