Coffee, Decoded

The handshake he never got to give

My grandfather planted the coffee. He had one wish he never got to live. So we live it for him.

My grandfather grew coffee with his own hands.

He worked the same land his whole life. He knew which slope caught the morning sun. He knew the day a cherry was ready by the color and the give of it. He didn't read it in a book. He read it in the plant.

But there was one thing he never got to do.

He never met the people who drank his coffee.

That sat with him. He'd pour a cup at the end of a long day and wonder where the rest of it went. Who woke up to it. Who shared it. Whose kitchen smelled like his work that morning, a whole world away.

He used to say he wished he could shake their hands. Just once. A strong grip. Eyes up. Thank you.

One handshake would have made his whole dream come alive.

He never got it.

"He wanted to shake the hand of every person who drank his coffee. Just one would have been enough."

Today my dad grows it.

Same land. His father's instructions. The ones passed down by hand, not written down anywhere. When to pick. How to dry. What patience tastes like. He does it in his father's memory, and he does it the way his father taught him.

And the dream that my grandfather never got to live — we live it now. For him.

Every chance I get, I meet you in person. I go out of my way for it. And when I shake your hand, I make it count. Strong grip. Eyes up. Because I'm not just shaking it for me. I'm shaking it for him.

But I can't be at every door.

So here's what we do instead.

Every box that leaves us gets signed by hand. Me. My dad. One of the familia. A real name, written by a real person who knows exactly where that coffee came from, because we grew it.

That signature is the handshake. It's the closest we can get to standing in your kitchen and saying it to your face.

And every once in a while, a box leaves with a note. Just a few words. Because some mornings you want a person to know you're thinking of them, even one you haven't met yet.

This was never a transaction to us. It was never just coffee in a box.

It's a relationship. It's family. It's three generations reaching across a whole world for one handshake my grandfather always wanted.

When you open your box and see that signature, shake back. He'd have liked that.

With Much Love

Geovanni Leiva, for La Familia Leiva

Built by family. Shared with yours. 10% of every bag funds education and clean water in the community we grew it in.