A Million Sugars and Milk

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

Airplane coffee.



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