Coffee Shop

“Are you going to the coffee shop with grandpa this morning?”

                My eighty-four year old great grandmother was sitting across from me in the kitchen. Her hands were moving across the heavy pages of the Friday newspaper. I was spinning the bar stool back and forth while I unraveled the braids in my hair.

                “What time does he usually leave?” I asked.

                “It’s almost eight o’clock so he’ll be leaving soon. I’d take you shopping all day like I used to with your mother when she was your age sweetie, but mornings are too hard for me now,” she paused. “But you’re a grandpa’s girl and I bet you want to spend time with him.”

                I nodded my head and smiled. I had only two days to spend with my great grandparents on my trip to Idaho and I wasn’t going to waste any moment of it. I had set my alarm earlier than I was used to just to be awake and ready to get coffee with my grandfather that morning. The idea of drinking diner coffee had never been more appealing to me.

                “Seems like those men have to go every day or they’ll be talked about down there and they know it. Those old men are worse than women, you’ll see,” said my grandmother.

                A deep laugh entered the room followed by a round belly and big smile.

                “Come on now Dell. We’re not worse than old women!” said my grandfather, as he turned and gave me a wink. “Let’s go sweetie. We don’t want to be the last one there.”

                We walked out of the house toward the garage, where my grandfather kept his large truck, and I felt smaller than normal sitting in the wide cab. As we made our way across town, the summer dust uplifted from the road and the tires left a hazy path behind us. There were close mountains in the background but the small town seemed mostly flat and dry. Large houses broke the dominance of long farming fields until we arrived downtown. The drive there was pleasant but quiet; the only noise out of place was the occasional dinging sound that hopelessly tried to tell my grandfather to put on a seat belt.

                My grandfather parked the truck behind several others at a diner that appeared busy for a weekday morning. The worn down sign declared it served “home style cooking” and we entered the crowded diner together. My grandfather led us directly to a few tables near the front where he was greeted immediately by the waitress and by other tables on the way.

                “Boys, I’d like you to meet my oldest great granddaughter. Before you say anything about it, I think it’s obvious to point out that she got her good looks from me,” he said as there was a roar of laughter.

                One of the old men quickly replied, “Well if that’s true, she must have stolen all the good looks you had, Wes!”

                The laughter continued and another man added, “Looks like someone took your good hair genes too!”

                We had barely arrived and I knew that coming for coffee had been the best decision of the day. The waitress came over and gave my grandfather a Pepsi without question before asking me what I wanted to drink or eat. She brought me a coffee and a refilled a few of the men’s cups.

                The conversation and witty comebacks continued as I looked around the local hot spot. There was a large “We Proudly Serve Pepsi” sign, which the cups and menu holders proudly addressed as well. It was a tiny building with a worn atmosphere and the warmth from the laughter overwhelmed me. Every time the door opened customers were greeted by their first names or by waves from across the dining room. I felt at home.

                “Are you going golfing today, Wes?” a man asked my grandfather.

                “No, no I’m gonna head by the shop and then spend the day with my girl here,” he said as he squeezed his hand on my shoulder. I felt too happy to say or do anything but smile and I continued to listen to the conversations about how someone should have gone golfing or fishing, as if it were Christmas morning.

                One of the men on my side of the table looked up from his eggs. He had been one of the more outspoken jokers of the group and let out a deep sigh.

                “Remember when we used to talk about what we should have done or were planning on doing? Now we’re talking about all the surgeries we’ve had or the surgeries we need,” he said. Other men sipped their coffees or nodded in agreement.

                “Used to be about kids and now it’s about our great grandkids,” added another man.

                The tables were close enough together in the diner that one man at a different table turned around to ours and asked about someone else’s family member. The jokes continued as a new round of coffee was poured. After almost an hour at the table my grandfather and I said our goodbyes to his friends and a few other customers while walking out. When we got back on the road, he asked me if I had a good time.

                “Of course I did. I know I was really quiet but I enjoyed myself. I just wish I could have been able to go to coffee with you more in my life. It’s sad that I don’t see you,” I responded. “I’m glad I spent a little bit of time with you and grandma. It’s weird, actually. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life even though I haven’t seen you more than five times.”

                I paused and watched sprinklers in the fields we passed take off in directions. The dinging noise had turned back on inside the truck cab but my grandfather chose to silence it by clicking the middle seat belt buckle into his instead. I smiled.

                “I’m going to miss you. I wish I could stay here in this town with my family. I wish Mom was here too.”

                He sighed and said to me, “You can’t always wish for people to be there. You know that your family will always be there, whether you like it or not. We’re big and we’re proud and we support each other. You have to take some time to find yourself and learn. You need to go to college and meet new people. You can lean on all of us if you need to but you have to walk for yourself. We’re all so proud of you.”

                I thanked him and returned to looking out the window. I agreed with every word that he said but I didn’t want to think about actually having to leave. I felt like I had spent my whole life leaving people and it was exhausting to know it wouldn’t ever truly stop.

                “Besides sweetie, you can always take a break and have coffee with me in the future.”