My dad, reading the paper, talking to me about the funny pages, holding his cup up to his lips, perpetually trying to sip while I asked him questions. My principal, sneaking behind us in line, pouncing on those who were loud or unruly, with his angry yellow-spotted eyes and stale coffee breath. Bringing Amy a venti orange mocha every morning before I picked her up for school, spilling on my lap as I tried to drive a manual without cup holders. It’s always been surprising to me that as many memories as the scent of coffee evokes, I can’t stand the taste of it, and have to find other things to pour into my mug.
This post is part of the FRIENDS photo-a-day challenge. Join me on it – I’ll be supplementing my photos with prose as well.