Coffee TimePosted: March 1, 2014
After Bill and I had finished our breakfast, polished off our third cup of coffee, and muddled through our email, I gathered up the dirty dishes and empty coffee mugs and headed for the kitchen. Just as I put the empty cereal bowls on the counter, Mom called out to me. I poked my head through the kitchen doorway, my left index finger wrapped through the handles of the two dangling mugs.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m done eating and I’m ready for my coffee now,” she answered brightly. I wandered into the living room, still holding onto the empty mugs and began swooping up her OJ cup and empty yogurt container, spoon, banana peel and empty pill vile with my free hand. It sounds complicated, but I’ve actually gotten pretty good at it. I guess its phantom memory from my wild and wooly youth when I waited tables at Howard Johnson’s in Ypsilanti, Michigan long, long ago.
“Did you hear on the news that they’re expecting snow in Missouri?”
“Nope, I didn’t hear that one,” I said, plopping the spoon into the drained OJ cup, wrapping the napkin around the banana peel and stuffing it into the yogurt container.
“Well, you know, it’s probably going to move north and that could mean snow in Michigan,” she declared ominously.
“Mom, its February. It’s going to snow in Michigan. They’re used to it. We were used to it. That’s why we live here now.”
“I guess so,” she replied somewhat begrudgingly. “But maybe you should call your brothers anyway.”
“I’m sure they get weather reports in Michigan. Even in the suburbs,” I commented, rolling my eyes as I walked away.
“Where are you going?” she called out suddenly, sounding somewhat alarmed. “Why are you taking my coffee?”
“Because these are empty mugs. I haven’t gotten yours yet,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the kitchen.
“Oh, okay then, she replied. “I guess that explains why my mouth still tastes like banana.”