The Coffee Break

Time for a coffee break

It's Sunday afternoon and time to sit down with a cup of what I call coffee. I've just finished cleaning out a garage filled with several years accumulation of bikes and toys and other items best described as, well, crap. With my mouth, nose, and hair full of dust, dirt, and cobwebs, a hot shower felt great. And now, a mug o' joe, sitting at the kitchen table.

This was almost a ritual with my dad, and often mom too, albeit on a Saturday afternoon: Yard work at a stopping point, supper 90 minutes in the future, it was time for a cup of coffee and, if luck would have it, a fresh slice of coffee cake or a cinnamon roll. (And, if luck wouldn't have it, a cookie or two from the green glass cookie jar that now rests on my kitchen counter.)

I thought of all this as I decided to take a break after finishing my chores and before making dinner. Looking out, there is not a bud, bloom, or leaf in sight. But, I can finally see more lawn than snow, even if it is still brown and dormant. And the river is moving again with a crowded pre-St. Patrick's Day parade of various sized chunks and slabs of ice and snow on their way to the Great Lakes. And the squirrels are busy chasing one another about the yard and park-- that can't be good: I fear more furry tailed rodents are just a few weeks away.

I'll be 58 tomorrow, probably about his age in the picture above, and I feel like I'm channeling my dad a bit, sitting at this table. And that's not a bad thing. My parents recognized the value in an afternoon coffee break; a moment to catch up; a moment to sit and watch the world go by, to see the neighborhood at work and play. Not a bad idea, stopping for 10 or 15 minutes. I never do this but I've probably been missing something.

I know what they missed: Advil. Time to take a couple and start dinner!