An early fall morning, while in the 2nd grade, she poured it in a little white foam cup and handed it to me along with a chorizo burrito wrapped in a paper towel. She watched me from the dirt in front of the bushes that surrounded her corner house as I walked to the bus stop.
The kids at the bus stop asked if I had hot cocoa in the Styrofoam cup. When I said no, they insisted on tasting it because they thought I was lying.
It was coffee. She loved coffee. She drank it every day from breakfast to dinner. Sometimes she’d put cracked cinnamon sticks in the grounds before brewing. That was always my favorite.
She had a huge collection of coffee cups & mugs on a shelf in her home. One from every place she traveled. Betty Boop cups because she collected Betty too. Coffee cups that were gifts for all her birthdays over the years. That shelf must have housed over 100 cute java mugs in different colors. Some with jokes on them, pictures and quotes. She had me dust that shelf sometimes. A huge task but gratifying to complete. I’d ask her to tell me their stories. She was always happy to.
She told me stories about her life and often mentioned coffee. When she lived in the desert she still drank her coffee hot. During the summer, after working in the produce fields in 100+ degree weather in California, they gathered for coffee after work, in the heat.
The smell of coffee filled the air every morning before I opened my eyes since I was a babe. It’s nostalgic smell makes me feel like I’m home. My mouth salivates when I walk down the coffee isle at Fred Meyer. Sounds of coffee brewing sends feelings of excitement through my body.
I enjoyed her company and had some of the most important conversations of my life with her over una taza de café.
Now, since she’s in heaven, my love of this fabulous, little bean makes me feel more connected to her then ever.
I miss her.
Happy National Coffee Day.