generation to generation

August 15, 2007 | Filed Under ordinary 

ernie: “i think it’s your bedtime.”

henry: “no it’s not. i had a lot of caffeine today and i’m nocturnal. caffeine makes me strong and it makes me stay up. and, you know what? tomorrow i’m going to drink a lot of caffeine out of mommy’s teacup.”

and, earlier,

me: “jude, just a sip, okay?”

jude: “does this have caffeine in it?”

me: “yes. a lot. it’s not really for kids, only for mommies.”

jude: “but i neeeeeeed caffeine, mom. i really do.”

we really don’t drink it that much, do we? i know i don’t drink as much coffee as i did in school, abominable beans that they used cafeteria-wise. noel and i used to drink full pots of our own cheap stuff before bed, our clothes spotted with the stuff, our breath tasting of it. perhaps it wasn’t life we were full of in those days, after all.

“the country was made on cigarettes and coffee,” my dad says, leaning back in his chair, his own cup, black contents unmoveable looking miniature in his hands.

sometimes i am able to convince myself that iced-tea is mostly water. my mother confirms this, nodding, as she squeezes a lemon into her glass. sometimes we chase coffee with iced-tea, a terrible practice but strangely good all the same.

i scratch at the frozen block that was yesterday’s coffee to make it through the afternoon, to dinner, when ernie comes home to us all, someone new on whom to bounce, to show flips that are higher than yesterday’s, to give attention, to relieve.

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