I love coffee.I remember when I was a little kid growing up my dad would always sneak me a cup when my mom wasn't around. He would put a ton of cream and (gasp) REAL sugar in it. It wasn't made in a new fangled fancy coffee maker either,nope this was coffee slowly perked in a real percolator.I recall sitting and waiting for it to bubble up through the little clear top and anticipating that warm comforting aroma.
Christmas morning was the time I could have it with his fried eggs that he only made once a year.My mom hated them but I thought they were the best!They were all greasy and buttery and just wonderful with that sweet coffee.
Those are special memories that I have with him.I'm not sure why he let me have coffee other than maybe because he loved it so much and just wanted to share it and pass along that caffeine addiction.I'm sure that's when it started forming.
I had a dream about my dad last night and for some reason woke up thinking of those little "coffee moments" we shared.
I wonder if he even knows that I remember that? I should tell him.
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