Beginning with a single mug, a single coffee cone, and a single coffee filter, my daughter Abby creates a simple workspace to make her pour over coffee.
She puts the filter in the coffee cone, and balances it all on top of a mug that doesn't quite fit.
Without measuring, she scoops coffee into the paper filter. Grounds splay around the cup.
She pours the water into the cone, takes a spoon, and stirs the grounds. The water flows over the top and dribbles down the side of the mug. A puddle grows at the base of the mug, slowly reaching out from the once simple workspace.
"Good morn!" she says when she sees me. Her dark brown hair is tousled in a pony tail, and she is wearing a tailored black V-neck sweater and sleeping shorts - half dressed for work. "Do you care if I watch House Hunters?" Without waiting for a response, she flicks on an HGTV show that has been DVRed, and fast forwards it. "This one's a bit boring, but I love Italy." She has either seen this show before, or is resuming watching it.
After the water runs through the coffee grounds, she adds more, spilling over the top again. She stirs the mush in the cone with a spoon, and puts the messy spoon on the counter, adding to the growing watery brown pond on the counter.
Though the water has not moved all the way through the filter, she moves the cone off of the mug, across the kitchen floor, and into the sink. There is now a stream that connects the pond on the counter to the sink.
The black coffee meets the rim of the mug. It is ready to push over the edge again. Abby adds almond milk, then quickly brings her mouth down to the top of the mug and slurps in a futile attempt to keep the coffee from spilling even more.
"Mmmm," she mumbles. She picks up the mug, spills more, and turns to the TV.
When she is done, she grabs a sponge and swishes it across the counter, leaving streaks of brown detritus.
She turns off the TV, pulls her hair back, and leaves to fully dress for the day.
"Love you! Have a great day!" she yells from the basement, just before the door slams.
Tomorrow will bring another similar morning. But in a month the puddles and the mess will no longer be there. They will have flowed to Arlington, where she will begin new rituals and routines without me even knowing what they are.
wow this hit me- for a couple different reasons. 1. I am so sorry you will go through the heartache of missing this routine and others like it, while also knowing she will be making new routines.
ReplyDelete2. I hope someone in my life has pictured me this way- captured my routines so beautifully and cherished them as much as you seem to. I can only hope for love from someone that strong.
Thanks for taking the time for such a thoughtful response.
DeleteGreat visual language, I can see it so clearly. I especially love this sentence, "There is now a stream that connects the pond on the counter to the sink."
ReplyDeleteBest wishes for you both in all your new experiences!
Thank you - I'll miss her.
DeleteThis is such a powerful post. I love the way you start with pure description (I absolutely love the way the mess grows and grows and grows - from a puddle to a stream...) and then move to a place of emotion. I was immersed in the coffee making and the conversation, and then bang, the door slammed and I was hit with your feeling of loss. Beautifully done. So glad you are on the writingroadagain!
ReplyDeleteI'm thoroughly enjoying it!
Delete