The Little Things

I called my dad tonight. Earth shattering, I know. I was cleaning up the kitchen and took the time to set the coffee pot to brew that special elixir for when I need to wake up in the morning-an hour before last friday and several hours before I would normally crawl out of bed.

I programed the coffee maker, but instead of the set button pushed start. A few seconds later I hear it starting to brew. I immediately shut it off. What to do? Let it finish brewing and rewarm in the morning or leave it half-brewed and let it finish in the morning? I was frustrated. What to do?

I called my dad. Funny thing. Instead of sitting at home, watching the ball game as I'd expect, he and mom were eating dinner. At a restaurant. Sheesh, sorry dad, but this is what happened, what should I do? Let the coffee finish brewing and reheat in the morning or stop it, even though it already started, and let it finish in the morning?

Like I said. Earth shattering.

Sometimes, sometimes when life is difficult, when you've had too many major decisions to make, you fall apart on the easy ones. You look to your your dad, or mom for help. It's like you are a little kid again and you just want them to fix everything for you.  Sometimes though, they can't. But it is who you turn to.

It's funny, the coffee pot I have is the one my mom and dad bought me years ago. I quit using it in favor of cold brew coffee-less acid and superb for creating a most perfect latte. But after a last minute trip to visit my mom and dad in July, I began to rethink my coffee habits. Every morning Dad and I drank fresh brewed coffee and sometimes reheated the next day. My stomach felt better with the black elixir, hot or reheated than when I drink lattes.

The phone call was probably not about the coffee at all. It was about the connection, the love. I want to know I am doing okay, that I haven't failed at everything, that it is okay to reheat the coffee even though I was going for fresh brewed. It's okay that I have to get up at an ungodly hour, its for a good reason. Did I mention someone I know was driving his motorcycle home from work on Thursday night, hit a deer, and yesterday passed from this life? Two boys lost their father. I don't know what today or tomorrow holds. I'm thankful that I know who holds my hand. I'm thankful that I can call my dad and ask him about coffee.