For the Love of Coffee and Dad

I will forever cherish my coffee breaks with my dear old dad

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There is just something about coffee.

The heavenly aroma fills the room as it brews. My body feels nurtured when I take the first sip, and I am ready to start the day.

I look at the cheap insulated travel mug that has been with me for the past five years (at least). I should replace it, but it has been with me every morning. My cup full of coffee has been my crutch, nourishing me on good days and comforting me on the bad ones.

I wasn’t born with a love of coffee. As a child, even though I wasn’t drinking it, coffee was part of my morning. Before heading to the bus stop one of my morning chores was making a pot of coffee before waking up my parents. This was on top of (along with my sister) getting the house full of little children (six of us in all) up and ready for school and packing everyone’s lunch and snack.

My sister and I would talk smack about our parents as we watched the coffee brew.

“It’s your turn to get them up.” I would tell her.

“Nope, I got to get the kids up.” She would say.

She always won.

It is funny how I think back on how my sister and I would refer to our younger…