When you have a child with a degenerative condition, memories are a funny thing. Depending on any number of factors, they have the power to make you smile or cut like a knife. Sometimes they do both and you find yourself looking through a window to the past with a smile on your face and tears streaming down your cheeks.
Tatyanna was always perceptive, eager to help and always wanting everyone around her to be happy. Knowing that her mom was a coffee junkie (although I think afficiondo has a much nicer ring) she would drag a chair over to the coffee pot and fill up a mug full of what was often yesterday's brew. Once the cup had reached a level that could only be described as precarious, she would carefully carry it over to wherever I happened to be.
"This you foffee mommy."
These were her words every time, said in her chirpy little voice and always followed by a slightly more emphatic,
"you like it!"
She would then stand there, brown eyes expectant, and watch while I choked back a sip or two of the cold sludge. I never had the heart to say anything. Now, it's rare that a day goes by without either Trent or I offering the other a cup of joe without saying,
"here's you foffee....you like it."
Perhaps it's just our way of hanging to the girl we once knew... because forgetting is something that truly scares me.
