(By my baby sister.)
Tradition is familiar, brings a family together and is a reminder of important things in your life. Familiar is a safe feeling. Bringing a family together makes you thankful for what you have. Reminding you of important things in your life should be done frequently. Tradition is spending time with my sister and buying five-dollar coffees.
Every Sunday morning my sister and I would go to the local coffee shop called the Black Bear Café, order ridiculously priced coffees and then go antiquing. I would drive to New Hampshire every weekend hang out with her, since I didn’t have much of a life in Maine and her boyfriend was in Texas for 6 months for boot camp. When we both lived at home my dad would make bacon and we would have a huge Sunday morning breakfast together; it was both of our favorite part of the weekend. Both living back east, that breakfast was something we really missed. We decided to turn our Sundays into a sister bonding day, and came up with our own Sunday tradition.
The first time we went to the Black Bear Café I was overwhelmed by all the choices written on the giant blackboard. As I looked around I saw wooden square tables and couches that made you feel like you were in a cabin. The walls were covered with photos of the local mountains as well as wildlife. Statues and decorations of black bears covered the walls. My sister and I walked up to the waist high counter to order our drinks as the aroma of freshly ground coffee filled our nostrils. I decided on a raspberry mocha that turned out to be the greatest coffee I had ever had. I picked up the black and red coffee cup with whipped cream dripping down the sides and couldn’t wait to take my first sip. The warm cup gave me chills that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. At first I could only taste the cold whipped cream but as I drank more I burnt my mouth on the flavor of the bitter dark chocolate and the sweetness of the raspberries. I immediately regretted the choice to not let the drink cool since I ended up burning all the taste buds on my tongue. The first sip tasted as if a raspberry filled chocolate Ghirardelli square had been melted and made into a drink. It was like I was eating freshly picked raspberries right off the vine. “Why have I never been to this café before?” I thought to myself. “I drive by here all the time. Good thing I’m here now, my life is finally complete.” For the rest of the day I could feel the raised taste buds graze the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t eat anything without feeling the roughness of my tongue and the burnt flavor of chocolate.
After getting our coffees we would sometimes stay in the café and gossip about all the new drama in the small little town of Freedom, New Hampshire: who cheated on whom, whose having an affair, and the usual family drama. We weren’t the only ones that were happy about our time spent together; when our mom found out about our new tradition she was beyond excited. She knew that the relationship between my sister and I wasn’t the best and she was happy to know that we were together every weekend. There were a couple weekends that my sister and I weren’t able to get together; both of us realized how much we valued our Sundays together and how much of a stress reliever they were. We were able to talk about whatever we wanted and knew that there was no judgment. No matter what the weather was like we would always make a trip to get our coffees.
Even though every time the coffee cost me an arm and a leg that I always regretted, I had come across an amazing coffee that I fell in love with. Every Sunday that my sister and I went to get coffees at the Black Bear Café, I never got anything other than a raspberry mocha. Not only did the drink remind me of how much I liked coffee, but also it was a reminder of how much I loved hanging out with my sister. Although I would dread when our Sundays came to an end since I had to pack up, head back to Maine, and prepare for the week ahead of me, I feel good knowing that our Sunday morning coffee ritual brought us together as sisters. For the first time in our lives, it let us become friends.
Tradition is seeing my sister every weekend. It didn’t matter that an hour and a half separated us, every weekend we were together. We spent too much money when we were together, but I wouldn’t trade the time we spent together for anything in the world. Tradition is bonding with family and making your relationships even stronger.
Psst – Don’t forget to check 365 Days of Photography for my daily picture!