One of my earliest, and favorite, memories is my mom and grandparents sitting on the patio sipping coffee while I ran around the yard as a child. As I got older, I started to inch closer and closer until I, too, was sitting on the patio sipping my own cup of coffee.
I have so many fond memories of my grandparents.
Their house in Snellville, Georgia, was as much my childhood home as the house I grew up in up the road in Stone Mountain. They had this patio that looked out over their backyard, which, as a child, I thought was the biggest yard ever. I can even see it now as I write this.
- The hazy early morning air as the warm sun starts to hit the dew on the plants
- My grandma’s Queen Elizabeth rose swaying gently in the slowly moving air
- The Yuka bush—that I hated with a passion—glowing slightly, its thorns reaching out to catch an unwary passerby, mainly me
- The mourning doves cooing to each other, and the cardinals, our family bird, singing their good morning song
- The sound of my grandparents quietly rocking in their iron patio chairs and sipping their coffee
- The low sound of their voices, still groggy from sleep, murmuring to my mother and each other
Occasionally, my grandfather pauses and sing back to his birds, My grandmother, wrapped up in her fluffy pink zipper robe with white slippers, is smiling softly at her great love. Her hair is a pearl white and the sun’s rays grab the red that still clings to it. I’m curled up in a seat with my eyes on the yard, listening to them talk. The air smells of Maxwell House coffee, dew, grass, and the lotion my grandmother rubbed on her hands before she came outside. It smells like peace and happiness.
Both of them have passed on.
I named both of my kids after them in honor of the love and wisdom they unconditionally gave me. The tradition continues, though. As I got older I would sit on the patio with my mom and drink coffee. We would talk in low voices and watch the sky change colors overhead. Occasionally, she would pause and sing to a bird or just to listen to its trilling morning music. The hammock swing would creak as we took turns pushing off with our feet. Her dogs would make little woofing noises as if they, too, didn’t want to disturb the morning peace.
Now, I prefer tea to coffee while I watch my son run around and play.
These mornings sipping coffee and tea are so precious. Looking back over my almost forty years of life, I can see how important they were. It was spending time together in quietness and low voice conversations. It was telling stories like you would around a campfire, but, instead of scary stories, these are stories of wisdom learned and family memories made. It was low chuckles over a memory and an occasional eye roll. It was—and still is—a slow, easy way to start the day.
Nowadays, we are rushing around trying to get things done quickly. We have appointments to go to and tasks to hurriedly complete. I understand this because I’m often the same. Every so often though, you should try to go to your back porch and sit, sipping your drink in the early morning. I promise that will start your day so much better.
I’ve been missing my grandparents something fierce.
They and my mom raised me. Being able to go back in time and share this special memory with you has been wonderful. Time is so precious, and it’s the best gift we can give someone. Memories are the jewels I run my fingers through in my head and heart. So, take some time when you can to have a beautiful morning, and don’t forget to sing back to a little bird who is singing good morning. And, as always, you’ve got this and are doing a fantastic job!
