Quaking in our boots

Mom was wondering how stuff had magically appeared on her cosmetics travel bag in the bathroom.

Her first earthquake. And we didn’t even feel it, although Richard did at work. Granted, we much prefer quakes when they only reach entertainment level, and this one had created a mystery for her: where did this old contact case come from? How did this small packet get here? Why would her daughter have put them there?

A Goldilocks quake:  this one was just right.

The other California experience I wanted Mom to have before she flies home tomorrow was a trip downtown to Coupa Cafe.

So I took her there last week.   I wanted her to have the best hot chocolate anywhere ever.   I had all these associations with the place, so many positive memories: of Sam bringing the wondrous stuff home to surprise me with while out with her friends, of Richard and me enjoying a good tall mug’s worth on a cold evening in that beautiful old building.  Of the incredible Coupa dessert he and Sam bought me that was so rich it took me two days to eat it.  The photograph of a lush hilly greenness going across the wall of the rainforest farm where the owners’ beans come from.

When Mom and I walked in, the first person we saw was Sam’s old high school French teacher, who immediately asked me how she was doing these days.  I love this town.

Mom confirmed that that hot chocolate was really quite good.  But I got the distinct impression she could just as happily have been sipping away anywhere else as well; what she was enjoying was how much I was enjoying taking her there.  And being with me.

For a moment I felt just slightly let down, and then I inwardly guffawed at myself: well, of COURSE!  She’s your MOTHER!  What did you *expect*?  Or want, fer cryin’ out loud, woman.

I’m half tempted to try out her suggestion that we could create a similar mug’s worth if we were willing to put straight half-and-half in our morning cocoa.

But watch out for the aftershocks and keep away from the scales in the bathroom if you do.