On the plane the hostess asks, “tea or coffee?”
Unlike my grandmother I answer, “coffee.”
I wish I could say tea.
I assure myself that with age I’ll like tea, just like her.
The woman hands me one milk and one sugar.
In my head I think of how my grandmother would laugh and ask for more of both
And with that I do the same.
“Four sugars and three milks, please.”
I know the coffee still won’t be sweet enough, but I decide to be a big girl.
The hostess hands me the small sugars and milks. They look like props in dollhouses.
I have the same routine each time:
Shake the canister of half and half
Shake the sugars
Rip the seal and pour.
As I put the cup to my lip I wince. It’s too hot.
I also wince because for me it is still bitter.
I was also gifted two biscoff biscuits.
Breaking them both in half so I’ll feel like there's more
Half by half, I dip them in the bitter coffee, and instantly my mouth is sweetened by each bite.
The toffee flavored biscuits dilutes the coffee flavor and just like that I'm satisfied.
As I get off the plane to a place that isn’t home,
That isn’t green,
I know I have a part of her with me always
In each cup of tea
Or in my case