© 2014 L.L


The first sip was bitter.

I was eight years old, high off the energy of childhood innocence, with a sweet tooth big enough to fill the world with cavities.

The second sip was too sweet: too much sugar, too much cream.

I had just turned fifteen.

It was tasteless, not so much as in the flavor, but in the tasteless reminder of what I had outgrown.

Five years have passed and the third sip become a forth gulp became a cupful became a pot;

Sometimes two.

And you understand a little, the adults who towered over you when you were eight.

A cup in the morning to get them started,

A cup in the evening to keep them from falling.

But now I sit there. With them. The adults.

I no longer look up just to reach their eyes.

Instead it's me; the roles' been reversed.

You forget sometimes that the passage of time isn't only affecting just you.

And they look at you with a questionable mark plastered on their face, asking:

Do you see it too?

It's a pattern you learned from your parents who learned from their parents who learned from their parents

And do you see it?

Because I see it.

Money may be lacking, food may be scarce,

But God forbid a cup of coffee is not brewed within this place.


© 2014 L.L.