Change
On Friday, the day of Christmas Eve, I had not been planning to see my father, since my sister and I had plans to get together with him the next day. But it turned out he needed some help and some company that day, since the aide who usually comes Friday mornings was off for the holiday. I went over to his apartment in the afternoon, helped him with some of the things the aide usually does for him, and then told him I had brought him some bagels. I figured he had not had his coffee yet. When I said I had time to sit with him and have coffee also, he was very happy.
I told him to sit down while I prepared the two cups of Sanka for us, but he hovered over me as I was spooning the instant coffee into the cups "About this much?" I asked him, showing him the teaspoon of brown powder I was preparing to put it in his cup. "Yes, that's good," he said. "Not too much, because it takes a lot of milk."
At first, I didn't know what he was talking about, but then I understood. After probably 70 plus years of drinking coffee with some form of whole milk (he is 88, and I'm sure he must have been drinking coffee as a teenager, since coffee was a big feature of the household he grew up in), he is now, as of the last six or nine months, drinking it with skim milk, because that is what comes with the Meals on Wheels that he finally has agreed to have delivered. It takes more skim milk to get the coffee to the flavor and color that he likes.
He sits down while the water is boiling. When it is is done, and I am ready to pour it, he says, "You know what, bring the cups over to the table and pour the water here."
I am a little exasperated that he doesn't trust me to pour boiling water into a cup two thirds of the way full, but, after all, it is easy enough for me to accede to this request. I bring his cup to him and pour the water under his watchful eye, stopping at just the right moment.
After we have had our bagels and coffee, and I am cleaning up the table, he acknowledges, "I'm getting used to drinking the coffee with the skim milk."
"Yeah," I say. "It's not bad."
I told him to sit down while I prepared the two cups of Sanka for us, but he hovered over me as I was spooning the instant coffee into the cups "About this much?" I asked him, showing him the teaspoon of brown powder I was preparing to put it in his cup. "Yes, that's good," he said. "Not too much, because it takes a lot of milk."
At first, I didn't know what he was talking about, but then I understood. After probably 70 plus years of drinking coffee with some form of whole milk (he is 88, and I'm sure he must have been drinking coffee as a teenager, since coffee was a big feature of the household he grew up in), he is now, as of the last six or nine months, drinking it with skim milk, because that is what comes with the Meals on Wheels that he finally has agreed to have delivered. It takes more skim milk to get the coffee to the flavor and color that he likes.
He sits down while the water is boiling. When it is is done, and I am ready to pour it, he says, "You know what, bring the cups over to the table and pour the water here."
I am a little exasperated that he doesn't trust me to pour boiling water into a cup two thirds of the way full, but, after all, it is easy enough for me to accede to this request. I bring his cup to him and pour the water under his watchful eye, stopping at just the right moment.
After we have had our bagels and coffee, and I am cleaning up the table, he acknowledges, "I'm getting used to drinking the coffee with the skim milk."
"Yeah," I say. "It's not bad."
posted by Sarah Sometimes at 1:33 PM
5 Comments:
I think that the instant coffee would bother me more than the skim milk :-) My grandfather swore that he could tell the difference in taste and always preferred whole milk. Guess that was the dairy farmer in him.
Jodi: Ha--yes, my dad is not so much of an epicure when it comes to the coffee itself. Not just instant but Sanka, which he prefers to brewed decaf when someone offers to make that for him.
Nice to hear from you. I have to figure out how to get links to all the blogs I read back up on my page now that Blogrolling is defunct.
This is a lovely jewel of a story. Happy New Year, Sarah!
nice post. such a good eye for detail.
70 years of coffee drinking! and I've been drinking in for 30+ years myself. what a unacknowledged and satisfying through-line weaving it's way through a life.
happy new year. hug my favorite city for me!
FA: Thank you, and happy new year right back to you!
Clowncar: Thank you, glad you liked it. I'd say the coffee-drinking is about 30 + years for me, too. I will hug your city enthusiastically. and happy new year.
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