As I sit here in my cube, listening to the rain on the sky light and sipping my coffee, I’m transported back to a different time.  I’m not sure what triggered the memory… Maybe it was the taste of coffee, maybe it’s the sound of the rain, or maybe it’s the fact that my nose is so stuffed up my brain isn’t getting enough oxygen to function properly.  But whatever caused it, I was transported back to a fond memory of my childhood.

It’s the early 90’s and I’m a little girl.  I’m sitting in the front seat of the 1981 Datsun Pickup and Dad is driving down the driveway.  I have Dad’s coffee cup in my hands, warming them and keeping it from spilling (the Datsun didn’t have cup holders).  The driveway is bumpy and slick from the rain.  We hit a pot hole and coffee sloshes out onto the lid of the cup.  Grinning up at Dad, I ask if I can sip the coffee off the lid.  He smiles back and agrees, but warns me that it is hot.  I sip the sloshed coffee and grimace at the bitter liquid.  A lasting memory is formed.

I’m not sure why I remember that so well.  Maybe it was because driving to school was time that I got to spend with my Dad.  Or maybe it’s because as a child, making Dad’s coffee was something that brought me great joy.  Isn’t it funny how, as a kid, I thought coffee tasted awful, but now, as I start on my third cup of the day, I can’t imagine life without it.  It’s odd, the memories that surface when you don’t get enough oxygen…


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