The little things you remember

These days, my mom takes her coffee black. I’m not that mature yet.

I still take my coffee exactly as my mom did when I was growing up: cream, no sugar. I remember the ritual every day. She would drop the cream into her clear mug of coffee, and we’d both watch the white liquid dance and swirl. My mom never used a stirrer or spoon. It was too fun to watch the coffee as it mixed itself – or better yet, didn’t. We both admired it when the cream would settle in the bottom half of the cup.

I always try to keep a clear mug in my cabinet. I could never find one exactly like the one my mom used to have, but it still brings back fond memories.  This morning, my 8 year old Jireh poured my coffee and we both watched and admired as the cream swirled and layered.