Each morning when mom gets up she asks, "are we still on lock down?" Sometimes she calls it "lock up" but the reference to being imprisoned is the same.  I slip the vanilla flavored coffee pod into the Keurig, listen to the coffee maker slurp and gurgle, and anticipate her next question. Each morning pretty much starts the same. I get up first, mom soon follows. She asks me to put on the news. I start her coffee. The brown liquid streams into her favorite mug, the one that says "I'm a Dog Person" on it. A puff of steam rises. I think how I like the smell but not the taste of coffee. Mom always told me I should learn to drink a cup of coffee each morning. One day I finally asked her why the insistence on my having a morning cup of Joe. Turns out she was only interested in my being "regular". I add a packet of sweet 'n low and pour in enough vanilla creamer to turn the liquid the color of a tortilla. I bring the mug to her. She takes a sip. "Delicious."   Everything tas......

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