Coffee and life a cup of coffee for two

I love coffee, because in the days when I was separated from my father, the most affectionate and warm love was the memory of a long time ago when they drank a cup of coffee together.

At the age of 21, my father left, and it was exactly half a century.

One of his last words was, go to the tea shop outside the hospital and have a cup of coffee. I didn't do what he said. Coffee has always been drunk by two people. My father, who has been suffering in bed for a long time, wants me to drink coffee alone. He immediately realizes that his last moment has arrived. He wants me to drink coffee alone. There should be another intention. He can't do it. In the future, I will go on alone.

Coffee for two.

My father was frustrated in the latter half of his life, which was my growing up period. In my memory, he seldom spoke, he no longer had opinions about anything, and often he didn't even have a dime in his pocket at that time. He never asked his mother for money. Occasionally, when his mother or brother gave him thirty cents in change, he asked me to accompany him to the coffee shop at the entrance of the village to order a cup and share it with him.

It was an old-fashioned coffee shop, with a saucer under an old-fashioned cup that held half a cup of coffee deep.

The coffee maker was very sympathetic. He knew that it would be a while before my father and I could afford to share a cup of coffee. He deliberately filled the cup to the brim, which was equivalent to one and a half cups of coffee. I drank from the saucer that spilled over the cup, and my father drank from the cup.

I have no recollection of the coffee I shared with my father in those years. It was ground coffee, probably bitter and sweet. However, in the lonely childhood and juvenile years, but also clear memory down, had to drink coffee with his father's scene. My father is gone, and the coffee is still there.

No childhood, no teenage years.

I can say that there is no such thing as childhood and adolescence. I went to school when I was ten years old. Before I went to school until I graduated from middle school, I worked as a small worker on different occasions. At the same time of going to school, I had to find a busy life. My contemporaries who are still alive know that I was a laborer who entered society before I was ten years old.

Childhood is not, youth is also busy when the small work in the past, the whole growth period, now how to recall, or a blank, still remember clearly, is overlapping and father coffee time together