So I’ve got this coffee mug. Not the one in front of me filled with steaming, delicious, attitude altering coffee – that one’s obviously my favorite in this particular moment seeing as it’s delivering my caffeine jolt for the day. No, I’m looking at the tall mug sitting in the cabinet across the room.
It’s nothing fancy by today’s standards. No witty snarkisms (“This coffee is making me AWESOME”), no inspirational notes (“Today is a good day to have a good day”). Just a tall ceramic mug with a blue handle and some handpainted blue grapes on the side. To anyone else it’s just some odd mismatched cup for hot liquids but to me it’s childhood.
I don’t really remember how I ended up with my dad’s mug. It probably happened when we went to help them pack up their Virginia Beach house – mom and dad were downsizing in a big way, and I think they asked if we wanted anything before they held their yard sale. I can’t say I recall claiming the blue grape mug but here it sits, hanging out with my other mugs like they’re long lost friends.
And every time I use it – I mean every single time – I think about Christmas mornings. Mom and dad would make us wait to open presents until they were settled in the family room with their coffee mugs; this one was dad’s. It sat next to him on end tables and coffee tables in a number of houses over the years, witnessing the squealey joy of kids tearing into presents at the crack of dawn. It’s warmth and joy and laughter and the stern reminder to “wait for your mother!” It’s childhood.
I sure hope dad doesn’t want this thing back. It looks pretty good on that shelf.
Linda hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday. This week’s prompt is “blue.” Talk about the first blue object you see when you sit down to write your post. Have fun!