Sunday's Coffee

 There's this theory that a person can start each day without coffee, but I refuse to understand why anyone would want to. I'm not referring to that diabetes inducing sugar drinks places are known for concocting and passing off as coffee. Those are great for a mid-day dessert. What's on my mind this cold January morning is that plain black steaming cup of fresh brewed Java. Thinking back over nearly 5 decades, that specific coffee has been present in so many moments and conversations that have forever shaped the woman I am today. 

   I vividly remember setting around my Grandmother's kitchen table, watching her rub her thumb softly along the rim of her favorite cup, thinking of new stories to fill our enquiring young minds. Now days it's her son. I think of her anytime I see my father, in his recliner, tracing his thumb around the brim of his favorite black mug, patiently waiting for one of the kids to stop talking so he can tell them about a memory that just resurfaced. I know one day it'll be my turn, and I'm sure my green bass cup will still be around to bring those memories out. 

   That first taste of coffee is comparable to one's first hit of a cigarette, first cold beer, maybe even a first kiss if you're lucky. My first memorable encounter came my senior year of high school. We had just lost my Papaw Lee. It had snowed entirely was too much, and we had been without power for close to a week. As I wandered around the funeral home most everyone, I met wore tear-stained eyes, red noses, and a saddening appearance all over. I heard a group of people talking and even laughing, and as I got closer, realized it was my grandmother. She was setting at a table in a small room with her children all around her. They were discussing some of their best memories, and each of them held a styrofoam cup of piping hot black coffee. I poured a cup of my own and went to stand behind my dad. I was chilled, it was a welcome warmth in my hands, and we've been together ever since. Coffee will, most likely, remain the longest love affair of my life. 

   Do I believe all people need coffee to survive? No. I am fully convinced that steaming cup of liquid wonder makes my days better. The scent of it brewing each morning inspires my lazy soul to begin each day. The gurgling sound of a pot finishing up sparks the reality that I have things to do, and the warm cup in my hand brings back much needed memories that I come from a long line of people who understand sometimes you just have to laugh to carry on. 

   I also accept that a cup of morning coffee is not singlehandedly responsible for my joy or survival, so I'll be looking forward to a new topic next week.

See you next time.

Anchor