The Smell of Coffee in the Morning
Last week, I was in my bathroom and could smell the scent of coffee wafting through the house, through the vents. My son was home, spending his last week as a “kid” in our home before he moved into his new grown-up apartment in Annapolis, and he had made his cup of coffee. He and I are the only coffee drinkers in the house. I’ll miss that scent—and him—when he’s gone.
They say the sense of smell takes you back in time faster than any of the other senses. I know it’s true. It happens to me all the time. How about you?
Moreover, I often associate the smell of coffee to being a young kid, before I even liked coffee. That smell will forever remind me of staying at my grandparents’ home in Cedar Grove, New Jersey. Waking up to the smell of coffee meant family—it meant spending time with family. My grandparents would brew their coffee early, and it would permeate the house. And while it was my grandparents’ house, I never felt as if it weren’t mine, too. We were always welcomed and invited to treat their home as our home every time we visited, sometimes staying for weeks.
I’m grateful that my senses allow me the opportunity to reflect on the past, and to remember it fondly. I never want to forget those days—of spending time with my grandparents, my aunts, my cousins, and my own family. It takes me back to leisurely breakfasts spent talking about all sorts of things, of laughter, and of being with people who have long passed.
I miss those days, too.