Caffeinated

My brother and I didn't often spend the night at Granny and Grandpa's house, but we enjoyed ourselves when we did. They day had been full of chasing each other on Big Wheels. We could get them going fast enough and cut the wheel quick enough that they skidded around the corner of the house, where the path from the back met the driveway. This unfolded into a dinner of Taco Bell, which we almost never got a home. I sat on the heater while we watched TV and stacked on a ridiculous number of blankets while I slept. In the morning, though was perhaps the most special moment of all.

I rose just a little before my brother. I can hear the murmur of the TV already on, so I pull myself from the stack of blankets and go to see what is on. I am disappointed it is the morning news. The only one up in Granny and it is not time for breakfast. I settle in beside her, it is not time for breakfast, but she is already sipping coffee. I am not interested in the news, but I am interested in the coffee. I can remember the exotic taste with milk and sugar. I liked it. In fact, I liked it so much it began my crusade to get more coffee.

My parents didn't drink as much coffee then as they do now and they were not big fans of their young child drinking coffee. So, while I tried, they diverted me to other beverages. On the other hand, my other grandparents and aunt Cy, could both be convinced to let me have coffee. I could never get it quite the way Granny made it, but I liked it just the same.

In middle school I really liked being at the adult table. I was ready to leave my brother behind and talk and play games with the big people. I can smell the slight mildewed scent of my Grandma's (as opposed to my Granny) house as we sat around placing words on the scrabble board. I was getting killed, of course, but I didn't care. My Dad would help me every now and then, but everyone playing knew the real competition was between him and my mom's mom. I don't remember is my Grandpa was playing, but he was there and drinking coffee. Black. So, I did the same. It was my first time trying this and it was nothing like my Granny's sugared variation. I remember thinking, this was pure, this is how men drink it. I drank a quarter of that cup before I doctored it.

The tan escort, called the grassy knoll by my friends, was loaded with my friends and crates of game books in the back. We were headed to Sills house, as happened on many weekend. Work had ended and it was game time. We had one stop to make before we made it over there. I had learned that his house seemed to never have coffee. If you asked the wrong way, you couldn't even get Kool-aid sometimes. So, I pulled into Dunkin' Donuts and walked inside. I got a dozen donuts, a variety to share with everyone, and a large cup of coffee for me. No cream, no sugar. Just coffee. Styrofoam cup in one had and a cardboard box I. The other I returned to car for a great night.

I just took the last sip out of my white and maroon ceramic coffee cup. The inside has a slight and permanent stain. The sound was a hollow clang as I put it down a little too hard back on the desk. Empty. I swallow the cold liquid and return to this blog. I try to evoke the memories from the flavor, but they swim away from me. I close my eyes, but it is too far gone. I move the cup to the far side of my desk, grab my water bottle and he'd off to the ice and water machine down the hall.