“La primera copa”, dijo, “es para despertar”.
– ¿Y el segundo?
Me miró por encima del borde de la taza azul.
Ezoic
“The second cup is for staying,” he said. “It’s for when you’re not in a hurry to be anywhere else. When the place you are is the place you want to be.”
He made a sign.
That week. In his garage workshop. Out of a piece of mesquite. He wood-burned the letters himself. He hung it on the porch, right above the rocker.
EVERY HOUSE NEEDS A PORCH FOR THE SECOND CUP.
It hung there for thirty-seven years.
Daniel grew up under it.
Daniel was born in 1987.
Our only child. We tried for more. It didn’t happen.
Ezoic
He was a sweet boy. Serious. Curious. He’d sit on the porch steps next to Harold’s rocker on Saturday mornings with a juice box while Harold drank his second cup. He’d ask questions about everything. Why is the sky blue. Why do roses have thorns. Why does Daddy drink two cups on Saturday.
