What’s your go-to comfort food?

A kid came back from a trip to Japan and brought me a pack of instant coffee.

Nothing fancy—no cute packaging, no famous brand—just a small packet of plain black coffee powder.

I asked him, half joking, “Since when do you know how to pick coffee?”

He smiled and said, “I don’t. I just thought you might like it.”

He was at that age where you’re just starting to drink coffee, but not really used to the taste yet.

Maybe he saw it on a shelf in some convenience store and thought of me.

Maybe it was the first time on a trip that he had the thought, “I want to bring something back for someone.”

That coffee?

It was bitter, a little harsh, and not particularly aromatic.

But I drank it slowly.

Because it wasn’t just coffee.

It was a kid learning to grow up—and learning how to care for someone else.

Just like how my partner often makes me a latte in the morning before work.

Sometimes they brew it by hand.

Sometimes they use a capsule machine.

And sometimes, they just grab one from the convenience store coffee machine.

But honestly, none of that matters.

What matters is—before the sun’s fully up, before anyone’s really awake—someone already thought of you.

Of course, I make coffee for them too.

Sometimes I wake up early just to brew it fresh.

Sometimes I make it the night before and let it cool.

I’ve used ice drip bottles, capsule machines, even just grabbed a cup on the way out.

It goes both ways.

We’re not always the one giving or receiving.

But every time, the message behind that cup is clear:

“I thought of you. Right now, I still do.”

Sometimes, the most comforting taste isn’t on your tongue.

It’s in your heart.