My mom woke me up Easter morning for 8 a.m. Mass.

I rolled over and fell half-asleep for another five minute wondering how I would be able to stay awake through the Homily.

Then I remembered. Today, I can have coffee again.

My 40 days and 40 nights ordeal without the caffeinated beverage was over. A small, sleepy smile crossed my face as my dad handed me a strong, piping hot cup of coffee at the breakfast table.

It didn't taste any better than it had. Just good, familiar.

And it kept me awake during church.

Really, giving it up for Lent wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. After the initial couple weeks, I had become accustomed to substituting water for coffee in the morning.

Those first few days, though, were a challenge. There was the obligatory teasing from co-workers and routine checks of my cold, empty coffee mug to make sure I hadn't caved.

I tried to remain chipper and optimistic but a week into the sacrifice, I came to work tired, cranky and thought if only I were able to have some coffee, my disposition would improve.

It improved anyway, without the caffeine.

I did find ways to compensate for the caffeine loss, however. I began drinking pop more often, a habit that's probably worse than coffee.

When I became sick, I need something to soothe my sore throat. I tried choking down a cup of tea. It didn't work. Tea has always tasted like poorly-flavored hot water to me and I couldn't finish it.

I ordered a cup of hot chocolate at a restaurant, but it wasn't hot or clear enough to do the trick.

"If only I could have coffee," I said to a friend in my raspy voice.

There were a few weekend mornings where I had stayed up too late and gotten up too early. I eyed my coffee pot on those mornings or considered ordering a cup of joe at brunch. But I didn't, of course. I would have to suffer through it.

Sometimes I would genuinely forget I had given up coffee. During a trip to the grocery store, I noticed coffee was on sale and considered purchasing it. Then I realized I had half a bag of it at home and wouldn't be drinking it anytime soon.

"At least I'm saving money," I thought.

Near the end of Lent, I unwittingly reminded myself what I was missing.

A co-worker offered me Jelly Belly candy and I took a small handful from the bag. I bit into one and tasted a familiar flavor. This is good, in fact, it tastes like … coffee?

I asked him if there were coffee-flavored Jelly Bellys and he said yes and that there were cappuccino-flavored ones as well.

I took a few more jelly beans and savored the taste.

"I feel like I'm cheating," I admitted.

I wasn't, of course. They weren't coffee and weren't even caffeinated. They were just candy.

In fact, it probably made the sacrifice harder because I craved it more.

The vice I gave up may be different this year, but the lesson was the same.

I thoroughly enjoyed filling up my mug with coffee at work Tuesday morning.

But it wasn't the first thing I did when I came to office, either.

Cari Quam can be reached at 434-2235 or by e-mail at :mailto:cari.quam@austindailyherald.com