咖啡·人生

I walk into the coffee shop and breathe in deep， savoring that familiar aroma. The smell of coffee， with a hint of 1)hazelnut， vanilla， mocha， and just a touch of 2)cinnamon. There’s only one place in the world other than a coffee shop that smells like that—Grandmother’s house.

Grandmother didn’t just like her coffee， and it wouldn’t really 3)do her justice to say she loved her coffee. Grandmother was to coffee what a 4)sommelier is to wine. She knew the 5)intricacies of coffee， the different tastes and even the textures. And only the best would do for her. No instant coffee， or coffee bought at the grocery store. She had to have fresh coffee， from a respectable coffee shop. “The morning cup of coffee sets the tone for the whole day，” she used to say.

I used to go to Grandmother’s every Sunday morning. Her routine was always the same. She would kiss me once on each cheek， hang up my coat and lead me into the kitchen， slice a piece of banana bread right out of the oven (sometimes 6)cranberry)， and pour a cup of freshly 7)brewed coffee.

“Alexa，” she said to me one day. “Did you know that every person’s personality is like a flavor of coffee?”

“Really?” I said， amused at how Grandmother relished her coffee so much that she related everything to it.

“Yes，” she said. “You， my dear， are French vanilla. You are sweet， almost sickeningly so at times to the discerning coffee drinker.” I slightly 8)recoiled at Grandmother’s

assessment of me. You expect your grandmother to call you sweet， but never sickeningly sweet.

“Your father is 9)espresso，” she continued. “He comes on strong. There are many people who don’t like him， but others can’t live without that high feeling that he gives them. He has an addictive personality that many people can’t let go of.”

“Let me guess， Grandmother. You’re hazelnut.”

“Hazelnut? Why on earth would you say that?”

“Because I find your coffee talk a bit 10)nutty.”

I smiled at Grandmother， but I could tell she was not amused.

“Alexa dear， I am trying to teach you a lesson about life here. I do not need you 11)poking fun at me.”

A lesson about life? Is she kidding? “Grandmother， you can’t 12)dissect a person’s personality by comparing them to a cup of coffee. People are more complex than that. Everyone has 13)nuances，

personality 14)quirks， things that make them different. You just can’t go around saying， ‘She’s a dark roast， he’s an instant， he’s a mocha 15)almond.’”

Grandmother looked at me， almost a blank， dull stare. “Then you just don’t understand coffee，”

she snapped， clearing my plate and coffee cup from the table. “I guess not，” I sighed， exasperated at my hazelnut grandmother.

I went to Grandmother’s house many more times after that， and she always kept her same routine. It was a welcome routine， one that I enjoyed every week. Grandmother didn’t talk to me after that about the “coffee 16)catastrophe” as I called it， but eventually， she did start to make more ridiculous claims concerning her favorite drink.

“I knew your grandfather was the right man for me because we loved our coffee the same way，” she said. “Cream with just a touch of sugar.”

I rolled my eyes. “Grandmother， many people like it that way.”

“I disagree，” she said. “For most people， if they prefer cream， they like a lot of sugar， or at least a moderate amount. Those who drink it with just a touch of sugar usually put milk in it， or drink it black.”

“So what if Papa preferred his coffee black? Or with milk and 17)sweetener? Does that mean that you would have never married? That I wouldn’t be here today?”

“Oh don’t be silly，” Grandmother said. “I won’t think about your grandfather preferring his coffee any differently. I don’t know what would have become of us. But you， my dear Alexa，

belong to me. You would be here no matter what.”

The last time I saw Grandmother was a Sunday just like all the others. I sat down at the table with Grandmother and she looked at me with a very intense look in her eyes.

“Do you ever think about heaven?” she asked me.

I stared at Grandmother and stopped chewing for a moment.

“Well， do you?” she asked again.

“Umm， not really，” I said， growing increasingly uncomfortable with this line of conversation.

“Well， I’ve been thinking about it lately，” Grandmother said. “I mean， I am getting to that age where I realize that I don’t have much more time here on earth. And I’ve just been thinking lately about heaven—and what’s there and what’s not. And I just hope that when it’s my time to leave this world， the next one has everything that I love here.”

“And what’s that， Grandmother?”

“Good food， good people， and good coffee.”

I smiled at Grandmother’s simplicity and love for the good things in life. And I hoped that she would find exactly what she would be looking for in the next world.

Grandmother passed away later that week. They found her sitting in her favorite 18)rocker in the living room， half a cup of freshly brewed coffee by her side. And somehow， I knew that it was a sign that everything would be all right for Grandmother.

Now， years later， I’m frequently reminded of my Grandmother. The scent of freshly baked banana bread， or the way someone will kiss me on my cheek will bring a quick flashback of her. But my memories are always most vivid when I step foot into a coffee shop， the aroma of freshly roasted beans and brewed coffee livening my senses.

“What would you like?” the person at the counter asks me.

“A medium hazelnut，” I say. “Cream with just a touch of sugar.”

我走進咖啡店，深深地吸了一口氣，又聞到了那股熟悉的芳香。那股咖啡的香味，夾雜著絲絲榛子、香草、摩卡和一丁點肉桂的氣息，除了咖啡店以外，在這個世界上只有一個地方彌漫著這樣的氣息——那就是在奶奶的家里。

奶奶不止是喜歡咖啡這么簡單，說句公道話，咖啡是她的摯愛。咖啡對于奶奶而言，就如同美酒對于斟酒侍者一般重要。她對于咖啡的紛繁學問，其不同的口味，甚至其結構特征都了如指掌。而她只喝最好的咖啡，既不要速溶的，也不喜歡從雜貨店買的。她一定要喝有名望的咖啡店出售的新鮮咖啡。“清晨的一杯咖啡決定了一整天的基調。”她常這么說。

以前每個星期天的早上，我都會去奶奶家，而她也總會用同樣的程序來迎接我。她會在我的兩邊臉頰上各親一下，掛起我的外套，然后把我?guī)нM廚房，切一片剛出爐的香蕉面包（有時候是蔓越橘口味的），并倒一杯新煮的咖啡給我。

“阿麗夏，”一天，她對我說，“你知道嗎，每個人的性格就像是一種口味的咖啡。”“是嗎？”我說。見到奶奶如此鐘愛她的咖啡，以致于將每一件事物都與之扯上關系，覺得挺逗的。

“是的，”她說。“你，我親愛的，是法國香草味的。你很甜美，對于那些有品味的咖啡客來說，有時甜得都有些發(fā)膩了。”聽了奶奶對我的評價后，我覺得有點不爽。你當然會希望奶奶說你很甜美，但絕對不希望是甜得發(fā)膩。

“你爸爸是杯濃縮咖啡，”她接著說，“他能給人以強烈的印象。有很多人不喜歡他，但也有人離開了他帶來的那種興奮感就活不下去。……