I can remember the first time I saw you. I had never seen anything quite like you. My curiosity arose, and I fell victim to your spell. I can’t exactly place what it was about you that made me change my ways. Whatever it was, left me begging my mother to allow me to have you, begging her to bless me with your presence. Finally, on Christmas Day, you became mine and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Waking up to you every morning is the greatest blessing. I always know that I can count on you to be there, waiting for me, prepared to help me begin my long and stressful day. Without fail, you manage to make the most important part of the day the best part of the day. There were many others before you, yet they are no comparison to the way you make me feel, the things that you provide for me. How will I ever repay you?

Oh, my Bodum French Press, how I love you so. You are my everything, my reason to live, my reason for getting up in the morning. You brew the most magical coffee of all time. There is something about the flavor that differs from a regular coffee pot, or a Keurig. The coffee is richer, more intense, warmer. When I take a sip, I feel as though I am getting a hug from a teddy bear.

Life is hard when you aren’t around. When I go home for the weekend I’m forced to drink the coffee produced by a mediocre coffee pot, forced to live without the greatness that is your essence. People ask why I don’t just bring you along everywhere I go. I explain that the risk of breaking you is too high and that I would never be able to move on if that happened. That is how much I love you.

I’ll be realistic for a moment, the love I feel for you may be because I have a slight addiction to coffee. Just a small, self-diagnosed addiction to caffeine. But even if that is the case, nothing will ever be as wonderful as you, my dearest French Press.