I turned 60 years old this year and I notice more and more I reflect back on things and appreciate the memories that as a young person I did not. This #thinkkit challenge brought one of those memories back to me and I realize that I miss my grandfather, and I know that my grandmother misses him too.

When I was a child I spent many summers staying with my grandparents, I slept upstairs in the attic bedroom across from my grandparents room. They lived on Southeastern Avenue, close to downtown at a time when that was a place of a connected neighborhood and family and friends lived all around. People owned their homes and took care of them and every evening after dinner we would sit out on the front porch swing and enjoy the evening. I always sat between my grandparents basking in the love and peacefulness. After all I am the oldest of 7 and there was little peace to be had at home.

At night before bed we would have a snack and then up to bed I would go. Tucked in and fast asleep. My grandfather owned a flooring company and installed and cared the floors in places like Riley Towers and other buildings around the city. So he and my uncles were always up very early and my grandmother would get up and cook them all a big hearty Midwestern breakfast. But the thing that always woke me up and had me head down the stairs was the smell of the fresh coffee being brewed in the glass pot on the stove top. As soon as that coffee began to brew, my eyes would pop open. I could smell the lovely aroma of Flogers brewing, and I would rush to get downstairs and have breakfast with my uncles and they all prepared to start work. My grandmother would fix me a cup of coffee to have with them, well it was really warm milk with a tinge of coffee, but I felt so grown up and so happy when I was sharing a cup of coffee with them.

Today I still wake up to the smell of coffee, it is like a secret alarm clock. I think it is one of the thing that I love about going to a coffee house, it is as much for the smell as it is to drink. I still enjoy brewed even though the Aussies don’t understand it. My glass pot looks a little different and I don’t drink Folgers but I get that great nostalgic smell that takes me back to many wonderful memories of my youth.