In this reflection, I begin with a dream of ballistic missiles, yet I choose to speak about coffee instead — about the fragile normalcy of morning rituals. I describe my particular way of making it, not because it is extraordinary, but because it is mine, a small act of order and warmth in a world that feels unstable. Discovering that my real coffee is gone and settling for instant becomes a quiet metaphor for learning to live with what is available. When my child calls out that the freezer will not close, the ordinary moment opens into something larger — a reminder that in Ukraine the “freezer” of war never truly shuts. Through these simple details, I reflect on how daily life continues, tender and interrupted, beneath the shadow of uncertainty.