Thank you for my cafecita, mamita - Cindi Parker

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Thank you for my cafecita, mamita

Morning coffee with mom, I'm going to miss this, moments that matter, mornings with mom, sweet memories

I’m going to cry, I just know it. The moment she’s all packed up and ready to head out that driveway, I’m going to feel that burn rise in my chest and the knot in my throat. I’m going to swallow hard and fight back the burning tears behind my eyes.

She made my coffee this morning. She doesn’t really know how to make coffee, she doesn’t drink it herself, and of course, I’m particular, I don’t make coffee like most normal people. But she gets that. Most mornings I make it myself, just how I like it, and this is maybe the third time she’s made it for me in my fancy French press since I showed her how.

And this time, it felt different. I waltzed into the kitchen singing a song I’ve heard her sing thousands of times, the song she said Ma (how we call my maternal grandmother) sang all the time, in Spanish, but in my own made up version 😊.


I sang, with my signature charming smile:

Mamita, mamita, mamita

Thank you for making my cafecita (which, I’m sure, isn’t even a word but it had to rhyme)


It’s NOT the original version, which, in less polite words uses different adjectives entirely. 😏

She giggled anyway. She was in the living room playing with her new baby vegetable plants (of course) and she giggled as she was going about her tasks.

And a little knot formed in my stomach as I remembered, I’m going to be missing this in just a few short weeks. I’m reminded, soak it all up as much as possible. These moments, these little ones, they matter. They matter a great deal. They’re the ones you miss the most.


And I’ll feel just like I did when I first moved to Florida two years ago.


She drove my belongings from up north with me and spent two long weeks here, two weeks that began to feel comfortable, as if she didn’t have to go back to Pennsylvania. I ignored the feeling, the knowing that she’d have to leave.


Until the night she did.


I’d already said good night and goodbye and I was laying in my bed with the lights off. She knocked on the door and came in with a sweatshirt and a mug she’d bought me, letting the light from the hallway peek in.

I’m not a fan of graphic, cheesy shirts with sayings but I always adore the ones she gives me. I wear them to bed. She gave them to me because she thought of me when she saw them, and that means a lot to me, but when she gave them to me that night, it felt like she was trying to leave a piece of her with me, so that maybe her leaving wouldn’t feel like she was so far away.

I’d lived away from home before, but this time was different. We’d grown so comfortable with living only 10 minutes away from each other back up north, an easy drive to each other for a random visit, until I’d decided I wanted to move over 1000 miles away to Florida. Moving away from her was hands down the hardest part of that decision.


That night when she left, it would signal the beginning of our 1000+ miles apart from each other.


While I laid in bed, she gave me a big hug, a kiss, told me she loved me. A gesture she’s done a hundred million times before in my life.


I kept my breathing controlled and my voice even, so she wouldn’t see just how sad I was she was leaving, because that would’ve been more torture for her on her long drive north, torture for her that I couldn’t bear.

And when she walked out and closed the door, I rolled over, wondering if I should allow myself to feel this moment or focus on what I needed to do the next day to begin my life in Florida.


I cried myself to sleep that night.


So as I sang my song about my cafecita this morning, I was reminded that that moment would come again, as it does every time she leaves. But today, I’ll remember to smile and bask in the appreciation that if it weren’t for how much I absolutely adore these moments, I wouldn’t miss them so much when she weren’t here.


Thank you for my cafecita, mamita 😊❤️

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