Updated: Jul 3, 2020
Enjoy this short story by Jamaican Born Writer Tesse Savage.
Suspended between wake and sleep I barely registered the assorted songs of awakening birds. Much less the cool river breeze of morning wafting heedlessly through the overhead louvre. However, the strong sense of something great kept prickling at my nose and my mother and grandmother seemed to have something to do with it. Mother had given us her children bags of berries to carry to granny's house several weeks ago...And that insistently growing enticingly wonderful odor was...
"Coffee!" I shouted up and now running down the hill to my mother's house...where we shared boiled green bananas, fried salt fish and of course our own coffee made from higher up in the Blue Mountains for Jamaica.