coffee

"So now you're drinking "Kaw-fee"? I asked.
"Coffee," she said, and started to giggle.

I watched my beautiful, sixteen year old granddaughter, Krystal, as she giggled. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling blue with a twinkle of humor. My heart filled with love for this sweet, sensitive woman/child.

It's funny that Krystal has coffee with her mother on their 'Thursday together time', a time they share without interruption from siblings, phones, or the outside world. It's funny as her mother's idea of coffee is one ounce coffee to six ounces milk with lots of sugar.

Krystal is the first of my grandchildren to become a coffee drinker, even her older cousins don't drink it, so I see this as a rite of passage into the world of grown ups. I am glad she is sharing this with her Mom and hope she finds it a comfort as she finds her path in life.

I remember my first cup of coffee. I was fifteen, at my boyfriend's home with his family. They had received a package from family in Puerto Rico, which included fresh coffee beans. After the beans were ground and a pot of coffee brewed, we all sat around the table to chat as the coffee cooled.

It was the best! The color was dark brown, with steam floating above the cup. The aroma filled the air with its exotic scent, earthy and sweet. At first taste, I knew why no one added anything. It flowed smoothly over my tongue, with a natural sweetness of its own.

Over the years, I have tried many cups of coffee, but I have never been able to duplicate that wonderful taste and scent. Was it perhaps the company that made it so different? I'd like to think so...