We both know that I’m a coffee snob, the truth is that I haven’t even used my traditional coffee pot in two weeks. I’m using my french press exclusively now.
You were not a coffee snob, AT ALL, in fact I’m not sure that you were snobby about anything. You were pretty easy going, although you didn’t like avocados or artichokes, this much I know.
I gave you so much sass and drama over your coffee being subpar.
I hassled you about your powdered creamer.
I nagged you about how your coffee pot burned the bottom of the carafe, but I think we can both agree the new coffee pot made for a nicer morning routine, no burnt aroma. Sigh… there I go again, being all snobby.
I guess you raised a bit of a snob, but I swear mom, I hide it well.
The thing is, I wasn’t just a bit irritated about our java differences, I was nasty about it. When you visited our house I didn’t graciously dial down the amount of grounds I used, as I would for any other guest, I belittled you, made you feel like a burden, a hassle.
I did this to you a lot. Sure I had some very real concerns but I gave you so little grace..
I worry now, did you think everyone had written you off? We were just so concerned, wanted to intervene, to help, to somehow… bring you back.
If you were here right now I’d happily make you a cup of half strength Folgers with powdered Spartan Brand non dairy creamer.
I’d tell you that I was sorry for being so horrible to you. I’d try to explain that I had no idea how to help you or respond to your depression. I was so angry because I wanted you to take care of me, mother me, not the other way around.
I honestly believed that you were one counseling session away from breakthrough, from a slow return to us. This is why I nagged and yelled, and sent encouraging songs, sermons and emails, because I believed you had it in you.
I had a funny way of showing it.
I love you, I miss you,