The other day I was thinking how much my mornings look like my mom’s when she was in her twenties. She always had fresh coffee, made her breakfast, read the newspaper, and prepared herself for the day–savoring the few hours early before anyone else was awake. I am much the same. I am up early on purpose. I love having time to rise slowly, be with myself, and pamper me for a bit before I have to face the world.
I began to reminisce about how all of my family- especially the women who raised me enjoyed coffee. My mother, my grandmother, my great-grandmother all shared laughs, memories, debates, and so much more over a hot cup of coffee. It was a necessary staple in all of their households and I continue the legacy.
I remember Grandma Lillie putting on the percolator, brewing coffee early in the morning. I loved the smell ( I still do ) and I would beg for a little bit. My great-grandmother would say “You can’t have any coffee, it’ll make you black” and I would say “Well, I’m already black so give me mine!”. The women would swat me away but, I would hang around listening, being careful not to be too much of a nuisance so that they would allow me to hang.
I still vividly remember how they took their coffee too- Momma had 2 teaspoons of sugar and a little cream, Grandma liked her coffee black, and Great-grandma liked her with just a little cream. Coffee. I also realize that even in having just a cup of coffee, my foremothers were giving themselves of some well-deserved pleasure. Even in its simplicity, just the mere act of them sitting , drinking, and enjoying it brings me so much joy.
How hard they all had worked over the years, how much they had toiled. They deserved every ounce they savored. And so, as I sit early in the mornings, sipping on my coffee, I am honoring their memory by keeping the legacy alive.
Supreme gratitude of coffee.