Tuesday, July 12, 2011
That Irish coffee ... and that lovely rum
They are taken the day little A was conceived.
It may sound funny now - but this child was not planned, he is the result of a very romantic and ice cold weekend spent in Zermatt - a popular ski-resort in Switzerland, one of M's favorite places on earth - and a marvelous good, 23 year old Rum and Irish coffee symphony.
M loves snow, winter, cold and skiing. I hate snow, winter, cold and skiing - so I guess he tried to convince me of the opposite by showing me this ski-paradise a pure, white period like it was that October weekend. He made me climb a half mountain down in the coldest of the cold weather and because of that very demanding experience (and when he thereafter saw my shivering cold body and my frozen lips) I guess he wanted to compensate for that and took me to a bar to get some warming alcohol into my body. I ordered a 18th-century classic, an Irish coffee (or maybe four). And then we went back to our cosy chalet down in the village.
The purpose was to get ready, switch into some more elegant evening clothes and have that dinner at the nice restaurant he always appreciated. But then there was this extraordinary, good tasting rum that we both love and always bring wherever we are, that we started to sip on in the chalet like a pre-dinner cocktail. One thing lead to another like it always does when you are newly in love - and let's just say we arrived to the restaurant at 1 am in the morning and had to beg the master chief to let us have whatever was left in the kitchen. I remember being so beautifully tipsy that all I did was laugh my way through that dinner, and honestly, I don't even remember what we had.
Six weeks after that weekend, and also after my horrible tonsil surgery that I managed to live through, I was noticing that something in the female month was missing and after a couple more days we had the test done and let me tell you the shock that came out from that stick. One single miss, one single time and here we were.
So this is the story little A will be told when he is old enough to understand what love, a good bottle of rum, warm Irish coffee and a little tipsyness can do to an otherwise so sensible couple. It is the best thing happened in my life so far and I just love the story behind it.
(That is by the way one of the first things I am going to do when little A have arrived; have a little, tiny sip of that rum again to recreate those memories! Talk about being worth it!)