Bilingual American text: coffee and Life

Grandma doesn't just like coffee. To be fair, coffee is her favorite. Coffee is as important to grandma as wine is to a sommelier. She knows the complexity of coffee, its different tastes, and even its structural features. And she only drinks the best coffee, neither instant nor grocery store. She must drink fresh coffee from a prestigious coffee shop. "A cup of coffee in the morning sets the tone of the day." That's what she used to say.

I used to go to Grandmother's every Sunday morning. Her routine was always the same. She would kiss me once on each cheek, hang up my coat and lead me into the kitchen, slice a piece of banana bread right out of the oven (sometimes cranberry), and pour a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

I used to go to my grandmother's house every Sunday morning, and she always greeted me with the same procedure. She would kiss each side of my cheek, hang up my coat, then take me into the kitchen, cut a piece of freshly baked banana bread (sometimes cranberry) and pour me a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"Alexa," she said to me one day. "Did you know that every person's personality is like a flavor of coffee?"

"Alexa," she said to me one day, "you know, everyone's character is like a taste of coffee."

"Really?" I said, amused at how Grandmotherrelished her coffee so much that she related everything to it .

"really?" I said. It was funny to see Grandma so fond of her coffee that everything had something to do with it.

"Ye" she said. "You, my dear, are French vanilla. You are sweet, almost sickeningly so at times to the discerning coffee drinker. " I slightly recoiled at Grandmother's assessment of me. You expect your grandmother to call you sweet, but never sickeningly sweet .

"Yes," she said. "you, my dear, are French vanilla. You are very sweet, and for those coffee drinkers with good taste, sometimes you are a little tired of it. " After listening to my grandmother's comments on me, I felt a little uncomfortable. Of course you want Grandma to say you're sweet, but you definitely don't want to be bored with sweetness.

"Your father is espresso," she continued. "He comes on strong. There are many people who don't like him, but others can't live without that high feeling that he gives them. He has an addictive personality that many people can't let go of. "

"your father is an espresso," she continued. "he can make a strong impression. There are a lot of people who don't like him, but others can't live without the excitement he brings. He has a fatal attraction that many people can't let go. "

"Let me gues Grandmother. You're hazelnut. "

"Let me guess, Grandma, then you are hazelnut."

"Hazelnut? Why on earth would you say that? "

"hazelnut? Why on earth would you say that? "

"Because I find your coffee talk a bit nutty."

"because I find your coffee theory quite fanatical." (in a pun, nutty refers to both nutty flavor and fanaticism about something.)

I smiled at Grandmother, but I could tell she was not amused. "Alexa dear, I am trying to teach you a lesson about life here. I do not need you poking fun at me. "

I smiled at my grandmother, but I could see that she didn't think it was funny. "Dear Alexa, I'm here to teach you a lesson in life, not to make fun of me."

A lesson about life? Is she kidding? "Grandmother, you can't dissect a person's personality by comparing them to a cup of coffee. People are more complex than that. Everyone has nuance personality quirk things that make them different. You just can't go around saying, 'She's a dark roast, he's an instant, he's a mocha almond. "

A truth in life? She's kidding, right? "Grandma, you can't use a cup of coffee to analyze a person's character. People are much more complicated than coffee. Everyone is different, their personalities and hobbies are different, and they are different in all aspects. You can't hang around and say, 'she's a cup of deep-roasted coffee, he's a cup of instant coffee, he's a cup of mocha almond coffee.' "

Grandmother looked at me, almost a blank, dull stare. "Then you just don't understand coffee," she snapped, clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table. "I guess not," I sighed, exasperated at my hazelnut grandmother.

Grandma looked at me with an almost blank and depressed look. "so you don't know anything about coffee," she snapped, clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table. "I think so," I sighed, annoyed at my hazelnut-flavored grandmother.

I went to Grandmother's house many more times after that, and she always kept her same routine. It was a welcome routine, one that I enjoyed every week. Grandmother didn't talk to me after that about the "coffee catastrophe" as I called it, but eventually, she did start to make more ridiculous claims concerning her favorite drink.

After that, I went to my grandmother's house many times, and she still greeted me with the same procedure. I like this program very much and enjoy it once a week. After that, Grandma never talked to me about what I called the "coffee catastrophe," but in the end, she began to make more ridiculous remarks about her favorite drink.

"I knew your grandfather was the right man for me because we loved our coffee the same way," she said. "Cream with just a touch of sugar."

"I know your grandfather is the one who suits me best, because we all like coffee with the same taste," she said. "add a little sugar to the cream."

I rolled my eyes. Grandmother, many people like it that way.

I rolled my eyes and said, "Grandma, a lot of people like that taste."

"I disagree," she said. "For most people, if they prefer cream, they like a lot of sugar, or at least a moderate amount. Those who drink it with just a touch of sugar usually put milk in it, or drink it black. "

"I don't agree," she said. "for most people, if they like cream, they like to add a lot of sugar, or at least a moderate amount of sugar. Those who drink coffee with only a little sugar usually add milk or drink black coffee at all. "

"So what if Papa preferred his coffee black? Or with milk and sweetener? Does that mean that you would have never married? That I wouldn't be here today? "

"well, what if Grandpa prefers black coffee? Or is it milk with sweetener? Does that mean you won't marry him? So I'm not here today? "

"Oh don't be silly," Grandmother said. "I won't think about your grandfather preferring his coffee any differently. I don't know what would have become of us. But you, my dear Alexa, belong to me. You would be here no matter what. "

"Oh, don't be silly," Grandma said. "I never thought your grandfather would like any different coffee. I don't know what the difference will be between us, but you, my dear Alexa, belong to me. You'll be here no matter what. "

The last time I saw Grandmother was a Sunday just like all the others. I sat down at the table with Grandmother and she looked at me with a very intense look in her eyes .

The last time I saw my grandma was on a Sunday, just like any other Sunday. I sat at the table with my grandmother, and she looked at me with a warm glow in her eyes.

"Do you ever think about heaven?" She asked me .

"have you ever wondered what heaven is like?" She asked me.

I stared at Grandmother and stopped chewing for a moment .

I stared at my grandmother and stopped chewing for a while.

"Well, do you?" She asked again .

"well, have you thought about it?" She asked again.

"Umm, not really," I said, growing increasingly uncomfortable with this line of conversation.

"well. I didn't really think about it, "I said, feeling more and more uncomfortable with this type of conversation.

"Well, I've been thinking about it lately," Grandmother said. I mean, I am getting to that age where I realize that I don't have much more time here on earth. And I've just been thinking lately about heaven-and what's there and what's not. And I just hope that when it's my time to leave this world, the next one has everything that I love here. "

"well, I've been thinking about this lately," Grandma said. "I mean, I'm almost that age, so I realize I don't have much time in this world. Lately I've been thinking about what heaven is like-what's there, nothing there. And I just hope that when I leave this world, there is everything I love here in the other world. "

"And what's that, Grandmother?"

"what are those, Grandma?"

Good food, good people, and good coffee.

"good food, easy to get along with, and good coffee."

I smiled at Grandmother's simplicity and love for the good things in life. And I hoped that she would find exactly what she would be looking for in the next world .

I smiled at my grandmother's simplicity and love for the good things in life, and hoped that she would find everything she wanted in another world.

Grandmother passed away later that week. They found her sitting in her favorite rocker in the living room, half a cup of freshly brewed coffee by her side. And somehow, I knew that it was a sign that everything would be all right for Grandmother .

Grandma died that weekend. They found her sitting in her favorite rocking chair in the living room with half a cup of freshly brewed coffee beside her. For some reason, I understand that this is a sign that Grandma will be all right.

Now, years later, I'm frequently reminded of my Grandmother. The scent of freshly baked banana bread, or the way someone will kiss meon my cheek will bring a quick flashback of her. But my memories are always most vivid when I step foot into a coffee shop, the aroma of freshly roasted beans and brewed coffee livening my senses .

Now, after many years, I still think of my grandmother from time to time. The smell of freshly baked banana bread, or the way someone kissed me on the cheek, suddenly flashed her in my mind. But every time I walk into a cafe, my memory is always vivid, and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and freshly brewed coffee always liven me up.

"What would you like?" The person at the counter asks me .

"what can I get you?" The man on the counter asked me.

"A medium hazelnut," I say. "Cream with just a touch of sugar."

"A medium hazelnut coffee," I said, "with cream and a little sugar."