My house smells of coffee in the mornings now. It never did growing up. In one of the small sacrifices I can see now, my dad didn’t drink it because my mom didn’t like the smell. He would buy a coffee or get some at the office instead, never complaining. She eventually bought him a k-cup when the conversation came up of how much money he was spending on coffees, though she insisted on taking it when they separated a few years ago. It sits in a cupboard in the apartment he pays for, just like the elliptical she demanded to keep, which is buried beneath boxes and knickknacks in her study. It wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on though, so he obliged, not the last of his many sacrifices.
It took me a long time to warm up to coffee and I am still not a habitual drinker, though there is a pot made every morning and it’s aroma fills the whole house. It reminds me of my grandparents house, my mom’s parents. Their house always smelled like coffee in the morning. I don’t understand where the disconnect is between them and her, but there is one.
It isn’t just about the coffee.
I wonder if you could’ve forseen the person I would become. This whole human being with thoughts, feelings, and opinions all separate from the ones you taught me. I am acting on my own, making big decisions without your consent or opinion. I take care of myself and you are the one who has to ask if I need help. Pride, yes, that’s something you taught me.
You held me in your arms as a newborn baby and saw a whole future for me and watched me grow before your very eyes, year after year; is this what you imagined? When you taught me how to walk and talk did you picture me moving out of your house and lives with a whirlwind of emotion and opportunity?
I can’t imagine the feeling: remembering what it was like to hold me in your arms knowing that you were the only thing protecting me from the harsh cruel world- the only thing keeping me alive, and now having to stand by and watch as the world releases tirade after tirade of trials and tribulations. Do you feel helpless? Or do you feel freed?
Is this what you imagined? Better, or worse?
This picture majorly resonates with me. Families are the core of all our beliefs, our triumphs, and the root of all our struggles.