Comfort in a Cup … Pure Comfort


Comfort in a Cup … Pure Comfort

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

 

 

Skip and I were sitting at a Krispy Kreme … drinking hot coffee … the best coffee I know!

 

 

 

 

Condensation on the inside of the clear, glass carafe … sound of water dripping into the carafe as it ran its cycle.  I love to hear, watch the coffee-maker as it goes through the process of making coffee, heating water.  Comforting … pure comfort.

 

 

 

Pouring hot water into the cup … tearing open a little packet of Folger’s coffee powder … dumping it into the hot water.  Stirring … adding cream until it’s just like I love it.  Give me extra cream, please.  Oh-hhhhhh, so good.  Comforting … pure comfort.

 

 

 

The sound of coffee percolating … who ever hears that wonderful sound now?  That was from the days of our grandmas.  I don’t know about you, but … as a child I lived with my Grandma Alma and George.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They lived in Hell … strange enough, even in Hell … one finds comfort … such as in a percolating coffee-pot.  I would watch the coffee as it percolated inside the glass ‘knob’ on the top of the metal lid.  Magical to a little girl!  Beautiful, happy … comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

 

I got to taste the coffee as a little girl.  I couldn’t have much because it could make me … ugly.  As a little girl, I wasn’t worried about being ugly … I just wanted that wonderful aroma … warmth of drinking the hot coffee.  I wanted anything warm, comforting to escape Hell.  Coffee, hot chocolate was comfort … pure comfort.  I could close my eyes and be somewhere else … feel the warmth of the cup … in my hands.

 

 

 

I watched Grandma Alma, George sit, drink their coffee.  They enjoyed it so much … one of the few comforting things in their life of pure Hell.  Coffee to them … to me … was comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

When something bad happens … what is the first thing someone wants?  A good, hot cup of coffee.  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

When I have experienced all the bad in my life … somehow, a cup of hot coffee was around.  If it isn’t, I will make it be.  If it’s nowhere to be found, I am wishing for it … why?  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

Think about it … become aware.  When bad things happen … watch on the news … what is being offered to rescue workers, people who have been through a trauma?  Coffee.  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

I was talking to Skip this morning by cell phone.  I was making a cup of coffee, we were talking about how we like our coffee, so on.  It reminded us of our grandmas … how we both would ask for coffee as a child.  Now, when we drink coffee … it reminds us of special people we loved dearly as a child.

 

 

 

My Grandma Alma and George were my lighthouse in the darkness of Hell as a child.  I remember how I would take a deep breath, smell the wonderful aroma of that coffee in their awful house.

 

 

 

Coffee made all disappear for a short time … beautiful aroma … hot coffee in a cup … holding it in my little hands.  The cup of coffee would make the bad better.

 

 

 

I loved the warmth of their old, thick, white coffee cups (like at the Waffle House).  My hands held on to … comfort … pure comfort for as long as I could.

 

 

 

Now … I look back all through the years.  So much bad … has been in my life.  I’m not a big coffee-drinker, but do you know what?  That’s what was in my hands each time something bad happened.

 

 

 

I’ll never forget my best friend, Ms Nancy … doing something that struck a deep chord in me.  There wasn’t any way for her to know how much hot coffee would mean to me at a horrible time in my life … yet, she gave us comfort that lasted long after she was gone.

 

 

 

Do you know what she did?  Our home had just burned down … claiming everything we owned.  The Red Cross had just gotten us, our Pups a room at a motel.  Ms Nancy did something I will never-ever forget … I will always love her extra for doing it … she brought to us … a container with coffee, and a coffee-maker, filters, creamer … cups.

 

 

 

She never knew how much it meant to me.  I can still look back, see myself and Skip sitting in shock at the motel room.  One of us had made the coffee … I can see myself holding my cup of hot coffee.

 

 

 

I held the warmth of the coffee cup in the palms of my hands even after putting the cup down.  Another bad time in my life … coffee was there.  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

Note by this Author:

 

 

 

Photos, story is true, owned/written by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

 

 

 

Ms Nancy, you don’t know how you touched my very Heart with your gift to make us feel better.  It made such a difference at that terrible time in my life.  I never told you how much hot coffee meant to me … when things are both good and bad in my life.  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

Our grandmas let us have coffee when no one else would.  We sit sometimes, talk about it … while drinking hot coffee.  Why?  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

It’s amazing what a hot cup of coffee can do.  It can bring people together in a special way.  Even the meanest of people will mellow out if you give them a good, hot cup of coffee.  I know … there are some mean-asses that will never mellow out … they can’t live with themselves, much less with kindness from others.

 

 

 

I think hot coffee with its special aroma has the ability to reach someone’s soul … the warmth to melt the ice in one’s heart.  Don’t believe me?  Offer a cold drink in place of hot coffee … sure, it’ll be welcomed … but, there’s something magical about hot coffee.  Comfort … pure comfort.

 

 

 

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