coffee

a vingette I wrote in may 2014

A morning staple.

My Grandfather said two sugars and one cream.

My Grandmother said one sugar and one cream.

My Mother said No Thanks.

I said I want it warm and frothy like Sunday mornings. Like the ones I spent in my grandmother’s eyes. For the longest time I didn’t even know what color they were. Brown, like beans to be brewed. I drank my coffee like she taught me. A slow gulp that was like the pale morning sun beaming down my throat. It left my mouth sweet and my lips sticky with caffeine. When the snow came, coffee was a hug for your frozen organs in a floral mug. And my grandmother was like summer to my skin with every embrace.

I said I want it sweet like the scent of the flowers on my Grandfather’s porch. 

The flowers I gazed at while we rocked back in forth on the swinging bench, drinking all the 

sweetness from the earth as we tettered there in youthful light of the day. He may be 

reading no doubt, and I too. In a contagious silence we sat sipping and stretching and 

staring off. Distracted by the confectionary clouds and the air that tasted heavy like cream.

Reviews

[Owen]

Beautifully nostalgic, takes me back go childhood in a very good way. Wonderful piece of work, and thank you for your review on my piece.

[Jamie R. Robillard Sr.]

:D coffee. Thanks, good read.

[Roger Turgeon]

Funny the little things we connect with home and comfort. An enjoyable read. ( : O )

[Zakari Schmidt]

That's really good I'd love another cup

[Babe Roxx]

Beautifully conveyed...I'm a huge coffee drinker and I share the same memories with my late Grandmother who introduced it to me when I was 8 years old...I always loved it black like her with 2 teaspoon of sugar...and she loved Colombian coffee...to this day...I always buy Colombian coffee,even if, it's at 7-11...I love the lush memories in your vignette...wonderful.