From the yeasty warmth of freshly baked bread to the clean, summery haze of lavender flowers, we all have favorite smells we find particularly comforting. What’s yours?
“I spy something brown, topped with green.”
“Nope, it’s not a number.”
“Not three the number, tree! As in the ‘nature’ tree!”
“Yeah, brother dear, three is indeed a ‘nature’-al number, no need to confirm it with me.”
One would never be prepared with my 13-year-old sister’s hijinks this early in the morning, no matter how used to it you are. Mother absentmindedly forgot to buy oatmeal on her last grocery stop (Saying that oatmeal was surprisingly not included from her shopping list), and thus my sister and I were left to our own devices to eat outside with a bit of money from her. Granted this was a nice break from oatmeal, I took the offer and settled for a coffee cafe a few minutes walk from the house. I’ve heard rumors that the bread there was amazing, so I took the chance to see it for myself.
Along the way, my sister decided to play a small game of I spy, and she was handling the game in her pace as usual.
“So, what’s the answer, sister dear?” I asked in attempt to turn the tables. Two can play the ‘three tree’ game.
“Why, it’s a plant, of course!”
I frowned. How could someone who makes such a terrible attempt be my sister? “Really, now?”
“Anyway, brother dear,” she said, now trying to steer the conversation, “Aren’t mornings great? The sweet summery haze of the lavender flowers, coupled with the yeasty warmth of freshly baked bread, everything sure is lovely this time of the day!”
“Stop using those cheesy descriptive words for lavenders and bread. Look, we’re here already.”
And indeed we were. Rosemary Coffee house, a quaint little cafe complete with wooden tables and chairs. It gave the impression of an old-fashioned shop from the 90’s, a part of it’s charm which I seemed to be fond of. One could smell the coffee’s thick aroma seeping from the inside, beckoning us to come and take a sip.
Opening the wooden door, a small bell chimed from above, announcing our arrival. Taking a seat from a table besides a window, a young girl around the age of Maddie approached and gave us menus. Listed there was a plethora of coffee blends ranging from Americano to Espresso, despite every single one of them being simply coffee.
“May I take your orders?” the young attendant asked politely. Seeing my confused looks on the menu, she tried to be a bit of help. “If I may, I do recommend our cafe’s original blend, which would surely give you a head start in the mornings.”
So young, yet so responsible already. When will Maddie grow up? “Okay, will go with that. And Maddie… ?”
“Cappuccino. The answer is always cappuccino.”
“Okay, cappuccino. And bread, the best you have.”
A nod before she left our table, leaving us both yet again. My sister and I cast both of our gaze outside the window, casually looking at the passing people.
“It’s been a while since we both ate outside in the morning, hasn’t it?” said Maddie, trying to stir up a conversation.
“Well, duh. More or less the only thing to expect every morning is oatmeal, and after that we both go on with our own lives, mine mainly the internet.”
Ah, here it was at last. Two cups of hot coffee and a basket of freshly baked bread arrived on our table. “Enjoy your order,” said the competent young girl before leaving the scene.
Before drinking it, I took a whiff of the coffee’s aroma, instantly calming my very soul itself. “This is some good stuff, alright.”
Maddie did the same. “It truly is wonderful indeed, just how the simple aroma of coffee in the morning could refresh anyone. It’s like magic, only real and in front of us.”
“Well, it is coffee, that’s what it does, I suppose?”
But Maddie wasn’t satisfied with such an fulfilling answer. “I guess this has to be because the smell of coffee gives of a scent of familiarity, always accompanied by the strong but rich flavor of the drink. It tells us what we should expect of it, and it’s the coffee’s duty to fulfill such expectations. The aroma of coffee, it’s similar to how humans interact with each other, right?”
Oh no, here we go again. But considering there isn’t much to do other than drink coffee, I let her ramblings pass this day. “And how does the two connect?”
You see, humans give of different impressions every time they connect with each other. ‘This person is kind’ this and ‘That person is mean’ that, we can’t help but give such impressions. If the person succeeds in making a good one, their impression would be soothing for that person. Many may say that ‘It’s my life I live the way I want’ rant, but there are times where that’s just plain inconsiderate. Interacting with others is a vital part of humanity, and if you don’t think of anyone but yourself then you’re in for a bad ride. A good person should be like coffee; A soothing aroma, but inside strong and warm. But I prefer cappuccino, sweet and calming, AND it sometimes has latte art”
I smiled as I drank my coffee. “Wow, even in coffee houses you never stop your rantings.”
She smiled back in return. “I have my reasons.”
A moment of silence as we took a sip of coffee and ate a bit of bread.
Before she finished her cappuccino, she widened her eyes in surprise.
“Oh I get it! You’re the one who erased oatmeal from mother’s shopping list!”
I stared at her in confusion. “Wait, it wasn’t you? Weren’t you cheeky enough to do such a thing?”
“Brother dear, you’re the person cheeky enough to do such a thing.”
Accusations were flung, coffees were sipped and bread was eaten. All another part of my daily life, which I genuinely treasured deep within my heart.
Hoping that this moment would crystallize, a moment forever lost in time.
No one will ever know what cafe was this based from. From today’s prompt.