Our Humanity and Hot Beverages

A practice for reflection, conversation, and connection

As I lay in bed in the wee hours of the morning, I smell the aroma of my spouse brewing coffee. Slowly, I rise, knowing that the first hot beverage of the day will wake me up just a wee bit faster.

I was thirteen when I drank that first cup of coffee with my grandfather while visiting the family farm in Butte, ND — a wasteland in the middle of the prairie. Simplicity ruled the day and the life of my farmer grandparents. They didn’t get indoor plumbing until the 1970s, so we took baths in a big steel tub in the kitchen and had to walk a narrow dirt path to the outhouse with only the Sears catalog to finish the job. I appreciate having gone through these experiences.

When Grandpa came in for a morning or afternoon break, the coffee percolated on the stove, filling the kitchen with a deep, dark, earthy aroma and freshly baked bread and cookies.

Those smells are forever embedded in my olfactory senses and still bring me joy when encountering them. The heavy white coffee-stained cups came out with the sugar bowl and a glass jar of heavy cream — fresh from the dairy cows down the hill from the small two-story farmhouse.

Grandpa would pour the coffee as I added my accessories with a teaspoon, which…