For my grandma:
I knew this elderly woman once, well once and for a long time, everyday of my life in fact.
She had this routine that started every morning: getting the perfect sip of coffee.
From her bedroom she comes carrying the cup from the night before, with but a few drinks left at the bottom, which she pours in the sink.
A glance out the window, a start of the pot and it begins again.
As she settled in the coffee pot would steam and hiss, soon enough ready for her lips.
A little water, a tester sip, it's not quite right but still she takes it and sits.
One, two, three cups in and she forgets and has to microwave it.
Afternoon comes, the end of pot number one.
Quick nap and then it's back at it.
Little more coffee and less water this time she tries, still not quite right.
An afternoon spent in a coffee fueled dance, I hear the shuffle of her feet knowing she has her cup to try again.
Now it's night time, the coffee tastes fine but could be closer to what she's tried the day before.
Finally after the news ends she reaches and takes a sip of her latest concoction.
Her eyes alight as she thinks, this is just right.
She turns the TV off, smiles as she reaches for the light, then it's goodnight.
The next morning I run into her coming out her bedroom, coffee cup in hand. Good morning grandma I say as she is ready to dance again.
