Coffee Spills

What I hear and see and think about at the coffee shops I patronize.
Brisk. Fresh. Well-balanced. Occasional nutty and bittersweet overtones.
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Thursday, January 22, 2009

Two orphans

I was getting a refill, ready to leave. She rushed up to the urn and dropped the paper cup on the floor, picked it up and started to fill it. "Oh honey, get a clean cup," I advised. She laughed and turned around and got a clean cup. We both laughed, and I apologized for sounding like her mother (she was perhaps 15 years younger than me). "That's OK," she said, "I lost my mom when I was in my 30s and I miss her." I told her mine had died at 88, 9 years ago. She said her mother was 45 when she was born--a tag-end baby, so although she'd lived to be 81, her youngest was still rather young. Now she's also lost her oldest sister, who was sort of a mother substitute.

Two orphans, brought together by a dropped cup, missing our moms.



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