My eyes stumbled on Grandpa's picture, and I began to reminisce about two decades ago, when I last saw him.
I was 15 years old when my grandpa died. There came a great storm, which led to a flood and destroyed Grandpa's coffee plantations, which in turn also led to his death.
I remember how much he loved to drink coffee with his favourite mug and how passionate he was about this coffee plantation. I wish I could go back in time to sit with Grandpa on his favourite couch and watch him brew some coffee and listen to his fairy tale while I sipped my cup of coffee too. "funny how time flies," I whispered because it's over two decades now and I have never stumbled on any kind of coffee in 2500.
I picked up my stuff and headed to Grandpa's place, a journey of 6 hours. I didn't mind as it would soon be his remembrance day.
As soon as I stepped into the house, I could feel his presence so much, even though a lot of things had changed. I heard echoes from the room, there was dust on the shelf and cobwebs on the ceiling, and Grandpa's couch was almost going extinct as well.
"Oh Grandpa, I miss you so much," I soliloquized. It took me a moment to clean the house, and then I walked into his inner chamber, a personal space for Grandpa when he was alive. I guess there he kept his most treasured items. I wanted to pick anything from his chamber for myself to keep the bond alive, and so I began to declutter the room. The first thing I saw was his hat hung on his wall. The writing on the hat says "world's best grandpa." I chuckled and wore the hat. Next, I saw his coffee mug and a saucer sitting pretty on this ancient stool.
The image is mine.
"If only I could take a sip of coffee once again from this mug," I said, having a feel of the mug, I was almost tearing up, and as soon as I turned around, I found an old box of his just beside his wardrobe. "What could be inside?" I walked closer and opened the box; there I found Grandpa's picture album, a diary, and a vacuum-sealed packet. "What??" I exclaimed with my eyes wide open. As soon as I opened the vacuum-sealed packet, I smelled a distinctive aroma; it was nutty, flowery, and savoury—a smell of heaven. "It's coffee," I whispered. I smiled so widely because my wish had just come true. I hurriedly went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee with my grandpa's favourite mug.
I couldn't believe my eyes that I was taking a sip of coffee in the year 2500, which retained its rich taste. Every sip brought back the feeling of nostalgia about how my childhood days were spent, which also ushered in a mixed feeling as it dawned on me that this might be the last taste of a sweet heavenly brew. So I took out my phone and took some nice shots of the cup of coffee, at least to preserve this memory alive. I sat on Grandpa's favourite couch, wearing his hat, and sipping this heavenly brew that I have longed for ages now, flipping through his photo album. "Thank you, papa, for the coffee you preserved," I wrote at the back of his picture.
