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 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 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 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.”
在那之后，我又多次去过奶奶家，而她依然以同样的程序来迎接我。我很喜欢这套程序，每个星期都要去享受一次。在那之后，奶奶再也没有跟我谈论过我所称的“咖啡大灾难”
，不过最后，就她最喜爱的饮品，她还是开始发表了更加荒谬的言论。
“我知道你爷爷就是那个最适合我的人，因为我们都喜欢相同味道的咖啡，”她说，“奶油里加上一丁点糖。”
我转了转眼珠，说：“奶奶，很多人都喜欢那种口味。”
“我不同意，”她说，“对于大多数人来说，如果他们喜欢奶油，他们就喜欢加很多糖，或至少是中等量的糖。而那些喝咖啡时只加一丁点糖的人，通常会加入牛奶，或者干脆就喝黑咖啡。”
“那么，如果爷爷更喜欢喝黑咖啡呢？或者是牛奶加甜味料呢？那是不是说你就不嫁给他了？那么今天就没有我在这里了？”
“噢，别傻了，”奶奶说，“我从来没想过你爷爷会喜欢什么不一样的咖啡。我不知道我们之间会有什么不同的结果，但是你，我亲爱的阿丽夏，是属于我的。无论怎么样你都会在这里的。”
我最后一次见到奶奶也是在一个星期天，和其他星期天没什么区别。我和奶奶一起坐在桌边，她看着我，眼中闪烁着一种热情的光芒。
“你有没有想过天堂是个什么样子的？”她问我。
我凝视着奶奶，暂时停止了咀嚼。
“嗯，你想过了么？”她又问了一遍。
“唔……没怎么想过，”我说，对于这种类型的对话感到越来越不舒服。
“嗯，我最近一直在想这个问题，”奶奶说，“我的意思是，我也快到那个年纪了，所以我意识到我在这个世上的时间已经不多了。最近我一直在思考天堂是个什么样子的——那里有什么，没有什么。而我只希望当我离开这个世界的时候，另一个世界里也有我在这边所深爱的一切。”
“那是些什么，奶奶？”
“好吃的食物，好相处的人，还有上好的咖啡。”
我对奶奶的纯朴，以及对生命中美好事物的热爱报以微笑，也希望她真能在另一个世界找到她所想要的一切。
奶奶在那周末去世了。他们发现她坐在客厅里她最喜欢的摇椅上，身旁还有半杯新煮的咖啡。不知道为什么，我明白这是一个征兆，表明了奶奶会一切都好。
现在，多年过去了，我不时还会想起奶奶。新出炉的香蕉面包的香气，或某人亲吻我脸颊的方式，都会让我脑海中突然闪现出她的身影。不过每当我迈进一间咖啡馆时，我的记忆总是特别鲜明，那新烤的咖啡豆和新煮咖啡的香气总能让我的感觉活跃起来。
“您想要点什么？”柜台上的人问我。
“一杯中杯的榛子咖啡，”我说，“加奶油和一丁点糖。”
