First winter break in college. 

I am back at home in Chinatown from the University of Southern California, having picked up a few table manners and appreciation for finer enjoyments in life. Gourmet coffee, among other things. 

I learned to drink foamy cappuccino, lattes, and flavored blends like hazelnut and chocolate raspberry cream. 

“Let’s go get something to drink.” Dad said, gesturing towards the door. 

We walked to a local bakery, where elderly gentlemen chatted around tables on a patio. We each ordered dad’s usual cup of joe–Folgers black with sugar cubes and powdered creamer. 

“How’s the coffee?” Dad looked at me dotingly. 

“Good,” I said, refraining from wrinkling my nose. 

Starbucks coffee costs seven bucks nowadays. I’ve gone back to drinking Folgers, thinking of my father with every bittersweet sip.