As I walk down the quiet hallway toward the kitchen I am bombarded by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It ignites my senses and wraps around me like a warm blanket. Little did my husband realize that the simple task of making the morning coffee would send me on a journey filled with bittersweet memories.
Closing my eyes and breathing deeply I see the old heavy ceramic white mug my Papaw drank his JFG coffee out of. Then in a flash the Mr. Coffee maker with the carafe so discolored by coffee oils and my father refusingto let us wash saying it took the coffee flavor away. My Aunt sending me to the Nurse's Station at 4 in the morning for coffee (huge shift...she was a tea drinker all of her life). My granddaughter asking for a "dink" out of my coffee cup.
In the matter of seconds a half a century flew by ....
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