Noticing

There are certain things that one does not realize about one's family until one has lived on their own and then returns. These things are not usually obvious things. They are little, probably insignificant.

My mother doesn't like coffee. Oh, she drinks it, at least, on occasion. However, she only drinks it for the caffeine that it contains, not for the rich flavor or soothing warmth. To her, it is merely a means to an end.

Thus when I start talking about how I like dark roasts over the lighter roasts, I get a roll of the eyes and a patronizing "whatever" as if my mother was fourteen rather than nearly forty-five. I cannot discuss the virtues of creamers with her nor can I discuss how using brown sugar affects the flavor. She doesn't care.

Another thing that I have noticed is my mother doesn't care about tea. It is sun tea season here in the Midwest. I love making up a pitcher full of the delicious liquid. I have passed on this tradition to my girls as well.

My older daughter especially likes to pick out the tea that we will brew from my collection. We never truly have the same combination, I think. One time we would have a minty wild berry zinger with extra blueberry; another time we would have a ginger "dragon" tea that zaps tension. Then we put it out in the sun for just the right amount of time. My girls  like watching the tea as it brews. It is rather cool, I will admit.

My mother, however, doesn't pay attention to her brewing tea. She leaves it out for hours, wanting to make it as dark as she can make it. The result is often bitter and tastes very strongly of tannins. She has exactly one kind of tea, standard black. Her exact words were "why does anyone need more than that?" when I mentioned it to her.

Yes, these are little things. Yes, they probably don't matter in the grand scheme of things. It still stands that they are something that I had gotten used to that I do not have any longer.

I really want David to get this job so that our family can be reunited.