The the sound of whistling from the kettle on the stove signaled it was time to pour. The instant coffee had already been placed in the cup which was sitting on the counter with the spoon inside the cup. She would walk over, remove the kettle from the stove and pour the boiling water over those grounds which would immediately fill the room with the smell of coffee being made.
She would then walk over to the fridge grab the milk and pour in just enough to lighten the dark coffee. The right amount of sugar and the portion of milk was perfect. The liquid it would appear, would surely run over the mouth of the cup as she would make her way from the stove to where I was sitting. Not so with her graceful movement. Even though she had leg problems and would wobble from time to time, not one drop of coffee would fall wasted.
There I sat, in Granpa’s stool, the one which sat at the end of the kitchen bar with a dishrag that acted as a placemat. I felt grown, as Grandma would place that cup in front of me. The white one with the blue rings toward the top.
That’s the memory which came back to me as I fixed my cup of coffee this morning as I briefly took a sip just to get that first taste. Yes, thats the best sip of the whole cup, the first one.
Instead of a kettle on the stove and instant coffee, we have a Kurig. Instead of the small white cup with blue rings around the top I have an oversize Starbucks mug. I do have to say, as good as my cup taste, it still doesn’t match the smell and taste of the one at Grandma’s house. Oh to sit at that stool now, as I did when I was a child and later teen years.
I must say, I am thankful for the memory that my Grandma and Grandpa gave me, which would allow me to write and think about today. It’s funny how moments can take you back isn’t it. Well, that memory which I had this morning brought a passage of scripture to my mind.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. -Psalm 116:15 (NKJV)