Dad has his coffee black and strong. He drives forty-five minutes to work, sipping his bitter brew, getting ready for the busy day as a partner attorney for a big firm. He grasps his cup as he passes his secretary, who reminds him of his busy schedule. He sits at his desk with a view and finishes his dark coffee, just beginning a long, stressful day.
Mom takes her coffee with creamy half-and-half. After a hit of vanilla and bean, she wrestles Claire and I out of bed, helping make lunches and mediate morning squabbles. Sipping her travel mug, she first drives me to the bus stop as the sun comes up, and then my sister. From the highway to downtown Detroit, she drinks and drinks until the last drop is gone. Settling at her desk for the day, she starts her computer and sets the empty cup beside her. One day I will have to drink coffee, but for now, I will stick to apple juice.