Coffee Memories

Coffee was always very significant in my life in one way or another.  My grandparents always had a pot on and in the early days they used the percolator.  I remember as a child waking up to the aroma of coffee along with those other fabulous and comforting smells of my grandfather's aftershave, along with the eggs, bacon, and pumpernickel toast being made by my grandmother.  I spent many nights over there especially in the summer and it was my safe haven.  As my grandfather readied himself for work by his usual routine of shaving and such, clad in his "muscle shirt" and work pants, I would sit at the kitchen table and wait for him.  Then the 3 of us would sit down and enjoy our wonderful meal.  My grandmother usually ate just toast and I ate whatever she cooked for me which was usually the same as what my grandfather would eat.  The two of them would sip there fresh hot (always black) coffee while enjoying their breakfast as we chatted about the upcoming events of the day...usually simple things like was what needed from the store, and perhaps any outdoor chores that needed to be done.  I felt as though I was the only grandkid on the planet and having 6 other siblings, it was indeed special to have alone time with my grandparents. 

I would spend the day with my grandmother, usually running a couple of errands to the store, or watching some choice tv shows from one of perhaps five stations, and I would listen to her usual phone conversations she would have with my aunt, my mom, and perhaps some neighbors as she chatted on the black rotary style phone mounted on the wall in the kitchen (of course).  We would sometimes chat about this or that and she always made me feel so loved with her interest in what I had to say as if she had never heard anything like it before.  In the later afternoon when it was close to the time my grandfather would be arriving home from his long and tiring day at the Tool and Die shop, I would walk down to the end of the street and there on the corner was a huge rock that I would sit on and wait for him.  That rock was like a monument.  It was always there for me and it represented a piece of my happiness and childhood innocence.  My grandfather always showed up on time so I never had to wait very long and when he arrived I always got this little butterfly in my belly as he stopped to pick me up.  I would climb into the car and lean over and give him a big smooch on the cheek and feel the scratchiness of his days growth.  He always greeted me with a smile and a big hello.  We would then drive about 10 houses down to the quaint brick house with the blue & white awnings and the freshly cut lawn where dinner was being made and of course...a fresh pot of coffee was waiting.