Armenian Coffee Divination Across Generations

The memory is as clear as yesterday. The dark grounds swirl at the bottom
of my cup as I brush a thumb over them, just as my mother taught me. Our
kitchen is filled with the rich aroma of Armenian coffee, that distinctive scent
that has always meant home, comfort, and moments of connection. I turn
the cup over onto the saucer, and wait. Finally, my mother picks up my cup,
places her reading glasses over her nose, her movements practiced and
sure, th...