Starbucks Childhood

“How may I help you?” A feminine voice asks me. They are late opening up; fifteen minutes I wait in line and I am hoping, praying my boss doesn’t say anything. “Yes,” I respond, “I’d like a tall, regular coffee. It’s been a while since I had that. It brings back good memories.” “Oh?”

Saturday. I always looked forward to Saturdays. For a seven year old, one would assume a seven year old looked forward to Saturday morning cartoons. Not me, though. An exchange student, Daniel, who had been living with Nan from 1991-1995, moved to New York and would come to visit us for the weekends. I’d spend Friday-Saturday nights with nan. Saturday morning was Daniel and my weekly ritual of going to Starbuck’s then Suzy Jo’s Donuts. Daniel would drive nan’s blue Buick Somerset and we would cruise through King of Prussia and Bridgeport just chatting and laughing. I would be in awe when he would tell me about New York, well, I’d be in awe for the parts I could understand and relate to. He always patiently listened to my trials and tribulations and fun and good times in elementary school. I loved that bonding moment.

We would drive into Bridgeport first, although that was further from us, since the donuts we always ordered were never hot. On our way back to nan’s house in King of Prussia, we would stop off at Starbuck’s and we would both order the “not very big” (as in my seven year old lingo, but now I know better today that the “not very big” cup is a tall) coffee (and none of the very fancy coffee, I’m not sure if they were made back then). I remember both places were relatively empty at the time; we would go early in the morning-nine o’clock—when the world was still asleep except for Daniel and me.

Our adventure would always end back at nan’s house, sitting at the kitchen table across from one another with nan sitting next to me, drinking my heavily creamed Starbuck’s coffee while munching on a donut. Of course, I can’t forget the after coffee mints that Daniel always lovingly gave me! They were just as strong as the coffee, but I always loved how it made my breath smell after the coffee lovingly warmed my body and the donut lovingly filled my stomach.

“Thank you and have a nice day,” the barista says as she hands me my tall coffee. Before I go back to work, I look for those after coffee mints that shaped my childhood, but alas, they are not at this Starbuck’s! I head back to the office with my “not so big”—tall coffee in hand to get me through the eight hour work day.