Coffee

 

Coffee

Michael Field – Flash Memoir - 8/15/23

 

Coffee has a different meaning for me than for other people. Coffee triggers a deep-seated connection to childhood memories which are not otherwise accessible.

There is an incident from my childhood which stands out; actually, it stands alone as it is one of the only memories I have from childhood. As I recall, I am about seven years old and seated at the maple kitchen table in my usual place. My two brothers, in their teens, are across from me. I can’t picture their faces; I just know they are there. My mother is on my right with the disorganized pile which is the family’s filing system beside her. Unanswered letters, unread newspapers, and unpaid bills are haphazardly stacked atop the checkbook which has no money. My father is at the other end of the table in his armed chair. As usual, we are eating in the stasis of an uneasy silence.

My mother rises from the table to fill her coffee cup and, deciding that I am old enough to start getting addicted to caffeine, pours some coffee into my glass of milk. Though this has happened several times before, this time I stare at the glass in horror as she pours.

Then, the thing the others fear happens; the silence is broken. I explode in uncontrolled anger as my mother has ruined my strawberry milk, a rare treat. My father, not understanding the import of my losing something so precious, yells at me to stop. His anger just infuriates me further and I start flailing. Suddenly, silence returns as the strawberry and coffee-flavored concoction my mother made is dripping down on the table from the ceiling where I threw it.

My memory of the event stops there, amorphous and incomplete like all my other childhood memories. The one thing I do remember of the aftermath is my father angrily shouting at my mother that I was never to have coffee again. Thus, for the 65 years since, I never again drank coffee.

To be honest, I have ordered coffee on cold days to use as a hand warmer. In her townhouse, I would join my mother in having a bowl of her favorite cold treat, coffee ice cream ordered from the Schwann’s delivery man. As an adult, I discovered the sweet crunch of chocolate covered coffee beans. As for caffeine, I am addicted using Diet Coke to get my daily fix. And the smell of coffee can still take me back to the kitchen in the Old White Farmhouse.