Heavy, heavy sigh…

My face is sticky with marshmallow bits from my soothing cup of hot chocolate. I’ve never been a coffee drinker – I tried it once in college and hated it. Some say I didn’t give it a fair chance, since my one and only sip was made from an international coffee instant mix that came in a small tin can. Regardless, I haven’t had a taste of the stuff since, and I’m okay with that. But I do feel a bit of FOMO when we’re out with friends and everyone is ordering their favorite warm drink with very complicated instructions while I say no thank you. So this winter, making hot chocolate has become my favorite self-care ritual.

I pour the milk into the small machine up to the “max” line. I select which brand of luxury hot chocolate mix calls to me and add heaping spoons of the brown powder to the milk, using a special wooden coffee measuring spoon. While the machine does its mixing and warming magic, I carefully choose a coffee mug and dance around the kitchen while I wait. When it’s done, we have the pour, and then the sweet, fluffy toppings get added at the end – today I used tiny dehydrated white marshmallows and soft, mushy pink Valentine’s Day hearts.

I admire the beauty of my confection, and then grasp the mug by the handle, with the other palm holding the opposite side, and I feel like a bonafide, “coffee”-drinking grown-up. I curl up on the couch with a blanket (and usually the dog), and the sense of unwinding and relaxation is enough to keep me going back nearly every day.