Memories of coffee – My grandfather, awake in the middle of the night, smoking a cigarette, a cup of coffee next to him. Study group, cramming for exams, bottomless cups at the diner on the corner, the waitress calling each of us “hun.” Kona coffee while watching the waves roll in on a beach in Honolulu, sweet coffee from a vendor on Arab Street in Singapore, espresso in the shadow of the Coliseum in Rome. Bitter coffee on the night my grandmother died. Coffee has been with me at all the important moments of my life.

By casadewhimsy

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