There’s something about working in the emergency room during a New York blizzard that feels almost surreal—like the world outside is in a state of suspended chaos, while inside the hospital, we’re racing against the clock, completely unaffected by the cold storm. It was one of those nights, where the snow fell relentlessly, and the city outside came to a standstill. Inside the ER, though, it was business as usual, and I was in the middle of a double shift that seemed to stretch on for eternity.
Exhaustion was creeping up on me, but there was no time to acknowledge it. Patients kept streaming in, and the pace was relentless. Somewhere in the middle of the madness, a co-worker, bless her heart, came up to me with a to-go cup in hand. “I brought you a cappuccino,” she said with a smile, the steam rising from the cup like a warm little cloud of comfort.
At that moment, the thought of a creamy, delicious cappuccino felt like a tiny slice of heaven. I was already dreaming about that first sip—the rich flavor, the frothy foam, the warmth cutting through the fatigue of a seemingly endless night.
But, as any nurse knows, it’s never that simple. We’re not allowed to have drinks at the nursing station, so I had to leave the cappuccino in the break room. I kept thinking, just one quick trip, just one sip, but every time I even considered heading to the break room, another call light went off, another patient needed me, or something else came up.
I’d glance at the clock, then at the chaos around me, and think, maybe after this next patient. But “after this next patient” turned into hours. There I was, running around, with visions of my cappuccino floating in my head like some kind of forbidden fruit.
At one point, I caught myself in the middle of a procedure, thinking, I’m literally dreaming about cappuccino. I had to laugh at the absurdity of it—there I was, dealing with life-and-death situations, and all I could think about was a warm, frothy cup of coffee.
As the night dragged on and my shift finally wound down, I made my way back to the break room. By then, the hospital had quieted down, but the blizzard outside was still going strong. I opened the door to the break room, expecting a warm hug from my cappuccino, only to find that it had gone cold. The foam had dissolved, and the once-steamy cup was just a sad reminder of what could have been.
I sighed, picked it up, and took a sip anyway, hoping for a taste of the creamy goodness I’d been dreaming about all night. But nope. It was cold, bland, and far from the cappuccino I’d envisioned.
When I finally made it home, exhausted and still thinking about that elusive warm cappuccino, I plopped down on my couch with the cold cup in hand. Looking down at it, I chuckled to myself and said aloud, “I guess I’ll have to have Cappuccino in my dreams.” And that’s when the idea hit me.
Why not create a journal that captures that exact feeling? That longing for comfort and peace in the middle of chaos, the way we often daydream about moments of calm when we’re overwhelmed by life? And that’s how Cappuccino Dreams Daily Journal was born—a space to reflect, unwind, and indulge in the little joys we sometimes have to put on hold.
So, here’s to all the cappuccinos we never get to drink and the dreams that keep us going anyway.
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