During my earlier years in school, my parents enrolled my sister and I in a Catholic school. We atteneded Corpus Christi School in Oklahoma City, grades K-12. I don’t really know how the little ones made it through the halls with the older kids at the same time, but there never seemed to be any chaos amongst us being in the same building. We had one cafeteria and we all at lunch at the same time. Besides recess, lunch was my favorite time of the day, lol. There was a corner of the cafeteria which resembled a bar, minus the liquor bottles sitting on the shelves. The teachers and nuns would gather ’round and drink their coffee which was poured from sterling silver decanters and into fine china cups and saucers. I’d watch and count how many sugar cubes certain teachers would use. To me, that would justify their demeanor for the afternoon. Well, one afternoon, my 1st grade teacher stepped away for a few minutes and came back to the class with a cup of coffee. She walked by my desk and I could smell the richness of it and it reminded me of my mom making her coffee in the mornings at home. This afternoon coffee run became a daily thing for Sister Dorothy. One day, I offered my coffee running services to her. I told her that I brought coffee to my mom every morning, “I’m a big girl, I can do it!” After some convincing, she let me go to “the bar” to get it for her. I guess safety was not on my list of priorities back then but I pulled a chair up to the bar, stepped up to reach the silver trays, cups, coffee and necessities for her and placed them on the floor and made my set-up for her. Once I was done, I picked up this huge tray with everything she would need for her afternoon coffee fix. As I was walking out of cafeteria and began my careful walk down the hallway to our class, I realized that I filled the cup too full. My solution: take tiny sips and keep walking! By the time I reached my class, she met me at the door and thanked me graciously, so much so that she allowed me to do this for her everyday and everyday I would fill the cup to the rim so I could “sip and walk”. Word got out that I was the coffee girl and other teachers would ask me to do the same. When the bell would ring for the older students to change classes, you could hear the rumbling of feet running down the stairs. This was not going to be good. Holding a tray of coffee and people running in your direction, but I kept my stride and it seemed like the parting if the Red Sea back to my class. This experience was the start of a beautiful relationship between me and my coffee.