Who cared for her, who made her coffee in the morn. Did anyone take down the toaster and lay out her coffee cup. Something one might ponder, anyone that is but her. In the many mornings of her life it had not been a routine. “Who brought her coffee”, she didn’t realize she was smiling as her grand daughter waited for an answer. Her mind flew back to her childhood. Most morning memories started with the smell of coffee. How odd she thought as her senses caught up to her memory. She could smell , sense and almost live those memories. The oddness though was this. As her memory walked thru those child hood steps she could smell the coffee. Her minds eye looked around the kitchen of memories. The oddness was, that it was just her. There with chair pushed in front of stove. On tip toe she reached for the old metal pot.
She looked at her grand daughter and smiled. As they entered the kitchen she saw her family was gathered. She walked to the coffee machine and started to fill it. The normal Sunday afternoon conversations continued. With out missing a beat , as was many moments of her life spent, she made coffee. She scuttled to and fro offering the beverage to family and friend. Some where in the back of her mind a smile was triggered, unrealized to herself as she served the coffee.
The morning silence was invaded by the sound of the door opening. She turned over in her bed as the attendant came in. With professional voice the orderly said hello. With assistance she rose from her bed and hurried to shower. Once again a small smile creased her face.” Hurried” has a whole new definition for those that reside in senior care assisted living facility’s. The attendant reminded her to be safe and take her time. As their eyes met they both knew that to be a silly request. They both knew that she would hurry , they knew that it was 20 minutes before her house mates would wake. With hand on her elbow, she walked with the orderly to the kitchen. As in so many days of her life she started the coffee. They would often joke that at her age she had seen the transition of many a coffee machine. In no time the dinning room came alive with the sound of her house mates seeking coffee and breakfast. With aid of walker and or orderly she again sought to serve all that entered.
It had been many years since they had visited, many years since sharing coffee and hugs. Oh she understood, as with many of her house mates their children had their own lives. Many of them had lingered when their spouses journeyed forth. So together her and her housemates shared not only their family memories. They became a family from those memories and the need to be loved.
Today they came; children and grandchildren, cousins and acquaintances. Together they joined to share memories, to talk and reminisce. As is the norm, the choir sang and the minister spoke. There filling in the pews was all those she loved. With an ending prayer and many tears they each stepped up to say a private good bye. Later they all gathered as was the custom. Together they shared food and drink . The hushed conversation of the evening was broken by the sharp tinkling of spoon to glass. The room almost in sequence turned to the source of the sound. There by the glass, spoon in hand stood her now much older granddaughter. She smiled thru tear filled eyes, and told the group of the question she had asked her grandmother so many years ago. Not many but a few times she had wondered as to the answer. But life’s moments moved quickly and she did not ask again. Now though, she informed them, now she had the answer. She looked at each table there was food and beverages. Yet no where in the room was there coffee. In mere moments they all journeyed thru their memories. Each memory of the scent of coffee was accompanied by the sound of her voice or scent of her perfume. No one had made the coffee, not tonight and not ever for her. In all the years and all the memories, not a person could recall. Not a memory thru all the stages of her life could family or friend remember any one making her coffee. For a moment there was sadness, then from no where came the over whelming smell of fresh brewed coffee. Though they looked they could not find a source nor any coffee to drink……. With each journey we leave something, maybe as simple as making coffee or sharing smile. With each journey, please don’t let the little things go unnoticed. Thank those that touch your life, appreciate the smallest gesture and pay it forward. Don’t let it be said you never offered to make the coffee !! Land of Rose…..