My mother made Arabic coffee every morning of my childhood. She woke before anyone else, ground the beans in the small brass mill her mother gave her on her wedding day, and stood at the stove while the dallah heated. The smell of cardamom was in every room of our apartment in Cairo before I was ever awake.
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Made me want to make coffee immediately.
The brass mill on the wedding day. These are the objects that carry a family.
Listen to the water. I have never read a better description of how you learn from a mother.