When I travel, my suitcase is always full of coffee. For as long as I can remember, my family has religiously gathered around to drink coffee after each afternoon meal. Some say coffee serves as a way to wake up, while others say that it aids in digestion, but to my family, coffee is the conversation starter for issues that others might not even touch. It was over coffee that my parents told my brother and me that we would be moving time and time again, that my brother announced that he wanted to study to be a writer, and that I told my parents about my passion of conversing and making connections with others, an aspect that my future career as a psychiatrist relies on. As soon as the espresso machine starts to steam, we all know to stop what we’re doing and gather around the table in order to talk about whatever the topic was on that particular day. The conversations are often shorter than twenty minutes, but they never fail to be meaningful and to open our eyes to each other’s different inner perspectives and beliefs.  

My grandmother introduced me to the tradition. One day, as I tried to sneakily listen to the whispered conversations, my grandma looked over at me and decided to initiate me. She dipped her finger into the brown nectar and into my mouth. Suddenly, a bitter taste filled my mouth. I pretended that I liked it in order to try and fit in. In reality, it was the worst thing that I had ever tasted, but it only took a few more years for me to be fully incorporated into my family’s sacred time. 

The moment that I could sit down with the adults to chat about whatever was currently happening in the news or between us was when I knew that I had matured enough to handle some of the subjects that are thrown out every once in a while. Whether I walked into my house after starting yet another school, or whether I just came back from visiting my extended family in the Dominican Republic, I knew that my “cafecito” cup were there waiting for me. 

What makes my tradition so special isn’t the drink itself, as the drink is only the excuse that we all have to stop whatever it is that we’re doing in order to spend time with each other, face-to-face. My acquaintances have become friends by way of this aromatic initiation. These friends of mine have come to appreciate and enjoy the history and importance of my family’s tradition. My friendships have flourished because we have come to rely on each other to communicate, instead of depending on technology as a tool from which to converse through. 

As I move on to the next phase of my life, I’m preparing to transition my tradition into the exciting unknown. This time, as I pack my suitcase, not only will it be full of coffee, but also my coffee machine in its entirety, in hopes that my tradition will continue to help me make connections with all those who cross my path.