Not being much of a reader, I haphazardly checked out a book from the library and sat down with said book on the other side of the tree not even a full 2 feet from her.

Then, after recklessly flipping through a few pages, I spoke. I asked what she was reading, and she laughed at me. Your mother’s first response to your old man was that I was a joke.

She was right. She saw right through my attempt and didn’t reply with the answer to my direct question, but to the question I was building up to ask.”

“Sure. I could go for a coffee break right now anyways.”

“I was stunned. I mean, to be honest, I actually didn’t even drink coffee during my college years. It was your mother that got me fixated on the bean.”

“Really, dad? The bean?”

“Anyways, she stood straight up and of course, I stumblingly followed.

We went to the local college coffeehouse, the only one on campus. She ordered a small medium roast, black. And, I ordered the same, along with a frosted sugar cookie.

My parents always brewed some generic store bought coffee. The smell wasn’t great anyways, but my mom generally burned the coffee too, so my history with the bean wasn’t all that grand.

But this coffee...this coffee was purely perfect, just like your mother.

We sat and talked for hours.

And, later I had to finally admit to her that I was just as enamored with that coffee and frosted sugar cookie combo as I was with her. ...well, not on the same level, but it was so amazing that we go to the same coffeehouse every year on the anniversary of that date to enjoy the same treat.

The aroma of the coffee was like nothing I’d experienced, bold and robust. The flavor was rich, with such incredible depth.