It had been one of those whirlwind days in the emergency room where everything seemed to blur together—until I met her. An older Italian woman, elegant despite the circumstances, had come in after a fall at her home. She had the kind of warmth and spirit that could brighten even the most hectic shifts, and as I cared for her, we got to talking. Somehow, the conversation drifted to Italy, and her face lit up as she began reminiscing about her homeland. She painted vivid pictures of its stunning vineyards and breathtaking coastal views, the kind you only see in postcards. I could almost taste the wine and feel the breeze from the Amalfi coast as she spoke.
Then, with a sly grin, she leaned in and laughed. “But let me tell you something, cara,” she said. “In Italy, you must know, espressos are the coffee to order. Real coffee. The kind that wakes you up with one sip.”
I smiled, thinking about my own rushed, oversized American coffees that got me through most of my shifts. “Oh, I love espresso,” I said. But before I could even finish, she waved her hand, chuckling as if I’d said something amusing.
“But you know what really makes us cringe?” she asked, lowering her voice as if sharing a scandalous secret. “When a tourist orders an Americano. Oh!” She clutched her chest dramatically, still laughing. “We Italians try so hard not to react, but inside, we’re screaming! It’s what we call the ‘fake espresso.’”
I couldn’t help but laugh with her. The image of a group of Italians, trying to keep their composure while watching tourists water down their espresso with so much extra hot water, was too good. She explained that, for Italians, the thought of drinking an Americano was almost sacrilegious—like you’re diluting the very soul of the coffee itself.
“You can always tell when we make one,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “It’s hard for us to hide the look on our faces. We can’t help but cringe a little. But shhh, don’t tell anyone I said that!”
I found myself laughing so hard I had to stop what I was doing for a moment. In the middle of a bustling ER, there we were, laughing about coffee—real espresso versus its “fake” counterpart.
It was a lighthearted moment in what had been a long day, and as I continued to care for her, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the little slices of joy my patients bring, even on the toughest days. We shared a bond over something as simple as coffee, and in those few minutes, I was transported from the chaos of the ER to a sunny café in Italy, sipping the perfect espresso by the sea.
As I walked home later that evening, I couldn’t shake the idea. The contrast between the bold, authentic espresso and the diluted Americano felt like the perfect metaphor for the way we sometimes approach our thoughts and feelings—watering them down instead of savoring them fully. And that’s when the idea hit me. Why not create a journal where people could allow themselves to explore their thoughts deeply, without diluting them? A place where they could be bold, real, and authentic, just like a true espresso.
That’s how Americano Thoughts Daily Journal was born—a space for capturing genuine reflections, without holding back. It’s a reminder to sip slowly, embrace your thoughts fully, and never be afraid to let your true essence shine through.
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