Sunday, June 16, 2013

Coffee break

In one of my earliest memories, I'm two or three years old. I'm standing on the porch of our townhouse, trying to walk down the stairs. I want to visit my best friend, who lives across the street. 

I've been told I cried for her after we moved away, when I thought our new home was just temporary.

At the time it was just her and her younger brother, but she went on to become the eldest of many siblings. I think of them every now and then. I wonder how they’re doing. I wonder what it must’ve been like to grow up in such a large family, if there were alliances and rivalries and favourites.

Their house always smelled of coffee, that’s one other thing I remember from later visits. I come from a family of tea drinkers, something that doesn’t leave a fragrance throughout a house. I remember thinking that the lingering smell of coffee was the most comforting, homey smell in the world.