A true story about love. And coffee.
Dec. 27th, 2013 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberdreamsLove isn’t always about the grand gestures. Sometimes the smallest things speak loudest. Let me tell you a little story about a love that has lasted over fifty years, and one tiny gesture that demonstrates it.
Christmas Day, and our family had decided to have Christmas dinner at our local pub instead of trying to cook at home. There was me, my cousin and my parents, enjoying a quiet dinner. There we were, stuffed full of turkey and/or veggie roast, Christmas pudding and brandy butter, the usual traditional sort of stuff. The last item on the menu was the coffee and mince pies, at which point my Mum had to take a comfort break, leaving Dad contemplating his cup of coffee.
When my cousin said she thought the coffee was pretty awful, what did Dad think?, Dad looked up from adding a couple of sugars, and shrugged.
“It’s alright,” he said. Then he got this sheepish expression on his face. “Actually, I don’t really like coffee.”
“Hang on a minute, why do you drink it then?”
“Well, your mother likes it, and she might not have a coffee if I don’t have one too, so…”
“So basically all these years you’ve been drinking coffee to please my Mum?”
“Um, yes.”
Of course, we told my Mum, and now at 81 years old, my Dad has a free pass from drinking any more coffee.
So there you have it, folks. True love written in coffee beans.
Christmas Day, and our family had decided to have Christmas dinner at our local pub instead of trying to cook at home. There was me, my cousin and my parents, enjoying a quiet dinner. There we were, stuffed full of turkey and/or veggie roast, Christmas pudding and brandy butter, the usual traditional sort of stuff. The last item on the menu was the coffee and mince pies, at which point my Mum had to take a comfort break, leaving Dad contemplating his cup of coffee.
When my cousin said she thought the coffee was pretty awful, what did Dad think?, Dad looked up from adding a couple of sugars, and shrugged.
“It’s alright,” he said. Then he got this sheepish expression on his face. “Actually, I don’t really like coffee.”
“Hang on a minute, why do you drink it then?”
“Well, your mother likes it, and she might not have a coffee if I don’t have one too, so…”
“So basically all these years you’ve been drinking coffee to please my Mum?”
“Um, yes.”
Of course, we told my Mum, and now at 81 years old, my Dad has a free pass from drinking any more coffee.
So there you have it, folks. True love written in coffee beans.
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