I stopped this evening at Starbucks and treated myself to an ice coffee. After the guy behind the counter handed me my efficiently prepared refreshing beverage, I headed straight back to the condiment counter to add cream to it. Whenever I add cream to my ice coffee, I am reminded of the same scenario and it always makes me laugh out loud.
When I was young, about 8 or 9, my father had purchased a motor home much like the popular Winnebego except ours was called a Commander. Our family absolutely loved taking vacations in this thing. I have the best memories from our vacations in The Commander.
Now my father was the kind of person that when he discovered he liked something simple, he was really into it. I don't know if it was something he had recently discovered or if it was a reawakened pleasure but this one particular summer, it was ice coffee.
As was the tradition, we camped at KOA's (Kampgrounds Of America) and they were everywhere. Dad was pretty good at making sure that wherever we camped, it had a swimming pool. And if we were lucky, it would have an "amusement park", too.
Well, on this particular day of this particular summer at this particular KOA somewhere in Oklahoma my little brother and I spent the better part of the early evening playing in the swimming pool while my mother prepared dinner. My Dad would sit on a lawn chair smoking a cigar and enjoying the much needed rest from driving all day.
I remember my brother and I sitting at the dinner table that was so neatly set for us. Before each of us was a tall glass of grape koolaide, ice coffee for my father and ice tea for everyone else. I thought it would be particularly funny to switch glasses with my father, so I just put my koolaid in front of his plate and took his coffe to mine. When I did this, I thought he would have caught it immediately but I guess since the plastic glasses were a dark transparent red, the grape Koolaid looked just like the coffee. Well, my dad proceeded to put cream in his coffee and didn't notice the creamy purple look as he stirred it. That was when I knew I hit pay dirt. He actually didn't notice that I had switched and he was going to discover once he tasted it.
When he proceeded to drink it, he still didn't get it. He knew something was wrong and he asked my mother what she did different to the coffe because it didn't taste right...and then of course my brother and I burst out laughing in delight of the "trick" we played on our father.
For me, now, whenever I put cream in ice coffee, I remember that moment and it is magical.
Isn't funny how some of the simplest moments in life can bring about such great feelings.