🌙 A Quiet Cup of Comfort
- Felicita Hawes
- Jan 2
- 6 min read
31Dec2025
Book 2: Little Things in Life
Volume 1
The westward wind softly tickles the trees as you stand on the back patio. There is a silence that sits still in the cool air. Just cold enough in the mornings to need a coat, but right now as the afternoon is just about to come to a close on New Year's Eve, a kind long sleeve does just fine.
The dogs are sprawled in the backyard shade on the settling sun. You turn to the creaking of the back door as someone gently known walks out. The aroma of a store-bought bean and the sound of a water heater catches your ear. This isn’t a coffee shop today. No, it's a bit more special.
“Ah… so you came again?” said a familiar voice.
By now it's one you can recognize it. Picture it in your mind a bit more. I smiled, “You’re brave out here in the cold,” I admired. You think a bit about whether you want to put on a brave face and maybe boast about how it really isn't that cold. But… you realize then that it is a bit chillier in the early winter-glow. The bush reeds in their coaxing brown hues shift in the occasional breeze.
“It’s colder than you think if you plan on sitting out here for a while” I said, handing a throw blanket to you. The brick stones underneath your feet feel slightly warmer in that moment.
“It’s good to have you,” I say and add “Give me a minute.”
You stand there holding the throw blanket as it heats up your fingers and you look towards the outdoor wooden dining table with the barren magnolia tree arched over it. You take the small set of brick steps feeling the greened concrete underneath your slippers and wool socks. Drawn to the long bench seat you are thankful for the throw blanket to drape over your lap and take a seat.
The dogs have begun their playful patrol rounds of the back yard. Browned golden grass pressing against their paws. You notice the small stone path ever-so hidden as it leads your eyes to the barn. Shadows dancing as someone works to clean the stalls for the evening's preparations. You continue to take in the small plot of land, scattered tall pine trees tower above in the fields, and you can see the horses peeking behind the five bushels of evergreens to the west side of the garden. The sun casts an orange haze over the view making it brighter and yet somehow cozier. It’s the time for everyone to gather and slowly turn in.
“Nice isn’t it?” I ask softly.
You nod quietly and I set a mismatched mug in front of you. Not one of the nice fancy ones, or the cliche neutral trendy types. One that’s seen a few places and survived a few lucky falls off the kitchen counter over the years. A bit chipped, a little worn, but… nevertheless...loved.
You admire the colorful dogs printed in the squares of purples, reds, orange, greens and yellows. Each checkered there with different breeds. At the lip of the mug is a small missing piece revealing the white ceramic fired undertone. I sit next to you on the long bench with a taller and slender mug that’s handmade with a fox and horse whimsically depicted on it.
“Nothing fancy today, just Folgers coffee,” I said, setting the warmed milk down and a slice of Spanish layered apple cake. “But she’s reliable, and a bit of sugar and milk does the trick for me,” I added. “Don’t judge the cake too hard. Mama had to guess how long to put it in the oven and the temperature as well since it wasn’t written down in the recipe” I whispered with a wink.
We sit there for a moment as the birds chirp and dogs continue in their joyous fray. Then it dawns on you. The heartwarming aroma. The play of dogs that seems to be just in the right place at the right time...but still...the cherished silence lingers around you like a hug you didn't know you actually needed.
The gentle kitchen buzz of our family’s traditional beef wellington for New Year's Eve dinner -- and it has to be Gordon Ramsey’s recipe which Papa knows by heart after all these years of practice. 364 days he waits for this. Now adding an addition to the menu - salmon wellington. The simplicity of collected mugs and faded glassware which is placed just out of my reach. Furniture handed down from family generations while the younger bunch of the sibling trio gathered the modern flare, but slowly we are coming realize the beauty of older things. The value they actually hold. A small concept which most miss about generational wealth- not everything has to be new...
For they are adorned with trinkets, and photos from all around the world placed in areas which are works-in-progress for my mom.
This is home. My home.
The home is a collection of bits and bobs, hand-woven straw dolls from Mexico, and that Spanish Cabinet. Which for years hid our TV when not in use - as Europeans normally do; but now has transitioned to be our family liquor cabinet. The French walnut wash basin that was once my art supply cabinet in our Texas home where my room had been a massive fantastical pillow fight arena that most of the time expanded its domain into the parents' bedroom for a challenge of "tickle monster" with Papa. Many matches were draws filled with laughter. That slanted ceiling and a cat nook perch that looked out a window to the grand basketball court driveway! Though our family was far more into playing soccer by that massive oak tree on the arched front lawn.
Now the first few photos of our former homes dawn the guest room wall which I put just a tad too far to the right apparently as mama still needs to complete the collection since she only made it as far as our former Kentucky home. There are still a couple to add though.
Plates from Poland and Chile decorate the walls all around in their various blues, reds greens and yellows. Not a single one is the same. Even the coasters are all different and you’ll see them placed about since we always need to have one in reach whether since we always have a beer, coffee, tea or wine in our hands. The dining room table which was my parents first purchase together at a flee market has scratches from all our kiddos shenanigans of crafts and homework with the blue and white hand painted flower tiles. And now we always play musical chairs before dinners in hopes that we don’t sit in one of the three wobbly chairs which have been gorilla glued again and again. There’s a 50/50 shot every time. And a chance it may break… but we have more gorilla glue and clamps somewhere in the handyman’s garage.
Another year has gone by already?
You mind begins to wander at the experiences the past 12 months have brought. Another wild ride. “What a year it was wasn’t it?” I whispered looking out towards the outdoor yard.
Twenty-twenty five almost gone but not quite. Here you are getting to count yourself lucky that you get to wrap up the year with family.
“It wasn’t always like this… our holidays these past four years have been sprinkled here and there,” I said softly.
You wrap your hands around the coffee mug, warming your hands, feeling a tension ease. Really? Was your train of thought. Chuckling as another oddity its as if I read your mind explaining, “My siblings and I manage early adult-hood and our silly twenties all a bit differently. Parents living their dream in their retirement life in this small bit of paradise.” I gestured to the view surrounding you. “Which as my mama so beautifully put it, was so much more than she ever imagined having. But this year we actually made it to align our crazy schedules together.”
“So yeah, we’re pretty lucky.”
You take a sip of your coffee as you like. Special to you. Your own way. Coffee is just the addition to it all. A warmth to the cool air with the dancing sun as purple tint begins to paint behind the tall pines.
What will the new year bring as the hours tick by? The midnight craze of the city that never sleeps. Resolutions that will start and fade. Trends already predicted as 2025 is old news. Around the world celebrations of the next year have already begun.
Yet here, let this year hold on a little bit longer. For a few more moments with family, and the life of memories cluttered about the house, with a couple furballs running around. Here, slowing down is fine to enjoy what’s really important. Here, we’ll stay a little while longer for dinner and will be filled with stories and tomorrow’s plans.
Here, we welcome you home.
Every story settles eventually, like coffee finding its calm in the cup. Soft, cozy writing isn’t about rushing to the last page—it’s about savoring the small moments, the tender details, and the quiet magic tucked between sentences. As you wander back into your own world, may these words stay warm, your ideas stay gentle as you go into 2026, and your imagination remain a place you can always come home to.
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