My son John had been home from his grand adventure to Israel and Palestine for less than an hour before he began digging through his luggage. He pulled a bag of Arabic coffee from under his crumpled tee shirts explaining how security at Ben Gurian airport had poked holes in the coffee bag because it was vacuum packed. From under his rolled up pants came bubble wrap and from that three small cups and a brass pot. Then came the tiled tray. He asked me to fill the sugar bowl as he filled the pot with water and added the cardamon laced coffee.Maddie and I waited at the kitchen table as he fussed over the thick coffee as it bubbled on the stove. As he poured out, he told Maddie that she might want to add sugar to her cup. And as we drank to the bitter grounds, the comfort of home and family traveled from Ramallah to Gradyville.
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