With Sugar and Cream Please
Two mornings ago the smell of coffee filled the air of my house. It reminded me of the smell of my grandmother's house. When I was little and spent the night there every morning the smell of coffee woke me up. I used to love that smell. I would run down the stairs to the kitchen where I would find her usually sitting at the table sipping on a cup of strong hot coffee reading the paper or watching morning TV. By then my step grandfather had already gone to work after his coffee and his big breakfast that she would make for him. I think that the mornings after he left for work were just her time to relax and think about the day.
I would always ask for some coffee because in my mind of a child it made me feel grown up sipping on coffee just like my Nana. She would fill a little coffee mug that she got just for me. She would ask me how I liked my coffee and I would say with sugar and cream please. She would put milk in it for the cream and I would have more milk then coffee. But, I didn't care. We would sip our coffee and share stories and talk about what we would do for the day. Most of the time we would walk all over the city. We would end up at her favorite thrift store down the way called the Turn About Shop at that time, and we would browse and I would try on stuff and she would usually buy me a little something and then it would be time for lunch. Nana was pretty thrifty and so we would hardly buy a $3 sandwich for lunch. Once we walked into a deli and when the man told her that the sandwiches were $3 a piece I thought that Nana was going to faint. Back then $3 was a lot of money for some bread, meat and cheese. Needless to say we walked out and walked right over to the grocery store across the street and got some tuna, bread, lettuce, and tomatoes for $3. We made our own sandwiches and Nana made punch and we had our lunch at her house in the backyard under the old pear tree while her little dog, Caesar begged for food.
So, when the smell of coffee woke me up the other morning I felt like I was transported back to another time in my life, 45 years ago when I would wake up and have coffee with Nana. I miss those days. I miss Nana. I don't make coffee because after Nana died I really didn't have anyone to drink it with. But, it was never really about the coffee it was about the company, the stories, the bonding and the love.
I sincerely felt my grandmother's spirit that morning when I came into my own kitchen where my nephew was standing near the kitchen counter stirring his coffee in his cup and asking my mom how would she like her coffee and she said, "With sugar and cream please."
I would always ask for some coffee because in my mind of a child it made me feel grown up sipping on coffee just like my Nana. She would fill a little coffee mug that she got just for me. She would ask me how I liked my coffee and I would say with sugar and cream please. She would put milk in it for the cream and I would have more milk then coffee. But, I didn't care. We would sip our coffee and share stories and talk about what we would do for the day. Most of the time we would walk all over the city. We would end up at her favorite thrift store down the way called the Turn About Shop at that time, and we would browse and I would try on stuff and she would usually buy me a little something and then it would be time for lunch. Nana was pretty thrifty and so we would hardly buy a $3 sandwich for lunch. Once we walked into a deli and when the man told her that the sandwiches were $3 a piece I thought that Nana was going to faint. Back then $3 was a lot of money for some bread, meat and cheese. Needless to say we walked out and walked right over to the grocery store across the street and got some tuna, bread, lettuce, and tomatoes for $3. We made our own sandwiches and Nana made punch and we had our lunch at her house in the backyard under the old pear tree while her little dog, Caesar begged for food.
So, when the smell of coffee woke me up the other morning I felt like I was transported back to another time in my life, 45 years ago when I would wake up and have coffee with Nana. I miss those days. I miss Nana. I don't make coffee because after Nana died I really didn't have anyone to drink it with. But, it was never really about the coffee it was about the company, the stories, the bonding and the love.
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