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.

 

 

 

I Was On The Inside Looking Out… Folger’s Coffee And Ms Nancy, Hope


English: How to apply traditional coffee in Syria

English: How to apply traditional coffee in Syria (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I Was On The Inside Looking Out …  Folger’s Coffee And Ms Nancy, Hope…

 

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

Coffee…  I was thinking this morning what could I write about that is ‘important’.  I was pouring myself a cup of hot coffee… only add cream to make it light… it’s perfect for me.  I rarely take sweetener in it.. and then, it’d be only a little pink spoon of Sweet ‘n Low.

 

It came to me that ‘Coffee’ is very important in my life… and I’m not even a big coffee-drinker.  I average 1-2 cups some mornings, no coffee other mornings.  It doesn’t matter.

 

Skip is the coffee-drinker here.  He loves his coffee.  Lately, the coffee has been too weak, even I’ve noticed it.  It seems our coffee at home has been too weak (my fault… who am I to know how to make good coffee?  :)))  We have stopped when out to purchase cups of coffee… guess what?  Their coffee was …. weaker than the coffee I made at home.

 

So, even not being a big coffee-drinker… I’ve been ‘craving’ a good cup of coffee.  I guess it adds up for me after a time of not drinking at least one ‘good cup of coffee’.

 

The coffee this morning… well, it’s so wonderfully good!  We went back to our favorite brand yesterday… Folger’s coffee… the coffee is so good, so….. welcomed!

 

Folger’s coffee …. is important to me.  In several ways because first of all, it’s our favorite.  It taste very good, rich but, not too rich.  ‘Now’ since December 28, 2004… it became most important and special to me.  Why in the world would coffee after all these years become so much more important?

 

Well, that day…. that momentous day… something awful happened in our life.  That morning when I got up early, took my shower, dressed,  I stopped at the bedroom door to tell Skip and our Pups, ‘then’ … goodbye.

 

I turned to go out the back door when my eye caught a ‘red glow’.  A red glow?  My mind felt confused and as I turned to look behind me… I saw in the window a big, red glow and… “Skip!  Skip!  The house is on fire!”

 

That day was a blur as I stood there watching everything go up in smoke.  That big two-story house burned everything we had, in it.  Things we treasured, somehow held onto through the years burned.

 

Tommy‘s scuba diving equipment, his old coin collection, his knife collection burned.  All of our clothes, shoes…. everything was gone that wasn’t on our back.  I had a collection of Ty Beanie Babies … we had………….. we lost so much in that fire.

 

We lost all the Christmas presents we had for McKenzie, our granddaughter.  We hadn’t seen her to give them to her.

 

We lost…………………………………………………. everything.  We only had what we wore that morning on.  We had… our Pups, our vehicles.  Thank God.

 

Our three Pups were safe… when I screamed to Skip that the house was on fire, I immediately went into action.  I put our Mr. Fairchild (our Rottweiler who lived to be eleven years old), and our father and son Basset Hounds, Gloria’s Garraway and Chadwick Elsworth, into my Expedition.  Our Basset Hounds lived to be fourteen, and thirteen years old.

 

I vaguely remember pain from lifting, half-carrying them, putting them into my truck.  I meant to save our Pups, I knew Skip would put the fire out.  We had fire extinguishers.

 

I ran back to help, couldn’t find Skip.  Skip had gone back inside the house, got lost coming back out.  Later, I found out … Skip could have died in there.  How many people come back out of a burning house?

 

Our neighbors voice guided Skip back out of the house through the smoke, fire.  He had gotten burned on his hand.  He had breathed a lot of smoke.

 

Our world went up in flames…. my mind was numb as I stood off from people, watching.  I remember just staring through my shocked eyes… seeing those scary flames.  I knew if we’d been asleep… we would have been burned trying to get out… or worse.  We had three big Pups we would have died for to save them.

 

Tommy was at his girlfriend’s house, she later became his wife… Taban’s mother.  At that time she cared for us, loved us…. she was a special person to us.  We loved her… we’ll always love her just as we’ll always love… McKenzie’s mother.  We love her step-father… Tommy had alot of respect for McKenzie’s step-father.

 

Through the following days I saw her sitting on the cold ground cleaning things she found in the debris, sitting there cross-legged.  She cared that much… through the shock I took notice.  I knew her fingers were so cold, they were black with soot.  It was so very cold, later … my fingers became frozen trying to savage anything from all the rubble.

 

I remember one day I was back at the house, I was so cold, my hands were freezing… a man came by to speak to me.  He must have noticed my hands… he went to his truck, came back and handed me a pair of camouflage gloves that were new.  He told me to put them on to keep my hands warm.  I appreciated those gloves very much.  I never forgot him for that.

 

There are so many fleeting images, moments in my mind at that time but, I couldn’t focus on any one.  The shock I was in was like if one was standing still as…. everything began to pass them by….. you only catch fleeting sounds, voices talking, brief glimpses of faces… you can’t ‘see just one’… you can’t focus on any one thing.  Your mind, your brain is in a panic… only at moments can one get it together only to fall back into… pure shock.

 

I am looking back to that day… I remember my little brother, Rick-Rick’s face suddenly in front of me… his face … he was crying for me, for us.  He was telling me he was so sorry our house was burning.  I remember I was so sad looking at my brother crying… he was all to pieces.  I can’t remember how I looked………. I was on the inside looking out.

 

The lady who lived beside us… we loved her dearly.  She and her husband had become very close to us.  He had died only months prior to the house fire.

 

I could hear her voice, she was crying for us… I remember turning around, putting my arms around her, petting her shoulder … telling her “everything is going to be all right, everything is going to be all right.”  She was so fragile, my heart hurt for her.  Her husband, best friend had died…. now this.

 

She used to speak of that later… she would say “Gloria, you turned around and hugged me when your home was burning down, and told me … everything was going to be all right.”  I think when I did that I was trying to reassure both of us…….  I know I was worried for her, she’d just been through so much.

 

That evening late, we were getting ready to leave to go to the motel the Red Cross had found for us.  We were so cold, our Pups were cold.  Our neighbor had let them be in an extra fence he had, that day.  I remember I wanted to clean it before we left, he said not to worry about it.  I appreciated so much our Pups being safe, I didn’t want to leave a mess.

 

Before we left… Ms Nancy came driving up.  She had something for us.  Do you know she had a coffee pot, and Folger’s coffee for us?  She gave us something warm to drink, something warm to hold onto.

 

That coffee was so special… think about how when ‘bad things happen’…. you will see hot coffee somewhere close by.  ‘Now’, I know ‘why’………. in my own words ‘it’s something warm to drink, something warm to hold onto’…….. I will say one more of my words to describe hot coffee at a time like that….. ‘hope’.

 

So, you can see why coffee is so important even to me, a ‘not so big’ coffee-drinker.  Ms Nancy and that Folger’s coffee…. I’ll never forget her for that…. she’ll never know really how that night following the fire…. that coffee soothed, comforted us.  It meant the world to us.  I love you, Ms Nancy.

 

Coffee was so important to me… as I stood there ‘on the inside looking out.’  Hope was in my hands, symbolized by a cup of Folger’s coffee, warm and alive.