Short-short

 Coffee – Whatever

It's a new taste for me - coffee.

Some other new thing to add to a week of new things.

He says, 

"This is what my father does..

.brings coffee to my mom. 

Every morning. Like clockwork. 

And yes, I guess it's like the clock because sometimes he even wakes her up to drink it. Sometimes not, though. He puts it on the floor or on the table near her head."

I am unsure what to think of this, this new thing on the first day of our marriage.

I've never liked coffee, but I could grow to like it. 

I smile, sip. As expected, it's bitter.

I am convinced I will resent having to grow to like it.

I'm not his mother. 

I like the tradition.

But he loves the tradition and he adores his mother.

I sip again and turn to him,

"Sweetie," I say, "all traditions grow and merge with the addition of new family members."

He nods, hugs my toes, waits.

"Can we make it whatever?" I ask him.

"Not chocolate?" he asks. Because he knows I love hot chocolate.

"No," I reply. "Whatever. Make it whatever. 

Bring me whatever every morning. 

Tea, chai, chocolate sometime, Ashwaghanda, ginger, lemon, peppermint. 

Whatever. Let's keep the tradition, but let's make it our own. Not too rigid or set in our ways." 

I wink. 

"Let's make this fluid fluid."