COFFEE TO GO

Coffee To Go

March 30, 2009

            "Two coffees and two biscuits, please, " I told the impersonal machine at McD's.  The usual scratchy, high-pitched scream answered with some unknown gibberish, which I presumed told me to move to the next window.  I did.  Retrieving my purchase, I drove on to my mother's apartment, where she was expecting me.  Condensing her treasures from a seven-room home to a three-room apartment, she had moved to a high rise.  A simple statement not beginning to describe the emotions that went into the change in her life.

            Entering the building with my coffee and biscuits, I spoke to several tenants about their problems of the day in the hall.  The floral smell always present in the building permeated the air-even when my mother left, it lingered on her clothing.  I pressed the elevator button and glanced around the hall.  The bulletin board proudly announced coming events and a Polaroid picture of an anxious new tenant.  Another area held multiple pictures of tenants in their younger years.  My mother's photo was one taken when she was about 20 years old.  Smiling into the camera, she wore a knee-length dress and was sitting sideways, her legs straight ahead, arms on the grass behind her.  I always loved to imagine what she must have been doing and thinking on that day.  The elevator arrived and up I went to the second floor.  I looked down the hall and her blond head was peeking out the door.  She was smiling, waiting for me.  I set the cardboard container on her bookcase beside my bronzed baby shoes that were her bookends.  Above her soft floral green love seat, recently purchased, was the romantic picture my husband and I had helped her select.  It was an old-fashioned painting of a beautiful women in a long flowing gown, sitting demurely on her chair, while a gentleman, possibly her lover, kneeling at her feet, looked lovingly at her.  We always tried to imagine that conversation taking place.  Mom sat in her favorite lounge chair by the sliding doors.  She had a small balcony where she could view the gardens the tenants were allowed to plant.  Her limited area was significant from the rest because she had planted an assortment flowers with a few rocks between for small stepping-stones.

            Her face, when I walked in, had shown a hint of disappointment.  However, she was smiling.  She had made a pot of coffee (she normally made instant for herself) and on the counter sat her special cups and saucers.  It was then I realized I had deprived her of her usefulness by bringing cardboard coffee and paper-wrapped biscuits packaged by an anonymous, impassive person.  We had our purchased coffee and biscuits and talked about the grandchildren, her concern about her recently diagnosed macro-degeneration and soothed ourselves by sharing our problems.  Then it was time to go.

            Sometimes, gazing at her cups, now in my cupboard, I think back to that day and chide myself for always wanting to be the giving person and not allowing her to enjoy that feeling herself as she grew older.  It was a small lesson learned at her expense.

Joanne Murray is my cousin.  She sent me a book her son made for her 75th Birthday.  It contained essays that Joanne had written.  In the interest of bias, I am definitely biased so let's get that out of the way.  But once you and I get passed my bias you come to realize as I have that these essays are something very special especially to her family and THAT IS THE POINT.  As I read them the one of many thoughts that crept into my mind was "why haven't I been doing this?"  Why indeed!  These are thoughts of a daughter, a granddaughter, a mother, a wife, a cousin (like in my case), an aunt etc.  Most who will read these essays have that in common with Joanne.  There are people you know who might enjoy knowing what you think and what experiences you have been exposed to.  Wouldn't it be nice if you let them know by writing them down as my cousin Joanne has done.  It's never too late to get started.  I will be posting them here about one a week and do so with Joanne's permission.  Hope you keep coming back.  Leave your comments below.    Jim "Gymbeaux" Brown