That Old Coffee Cup
"What in the tarnation are you doing with MY COFFEE CUP! Hand that over right now or I'll punch you in the snot locker so hard, you won't be able to smell Christmas DINNER!" These are my exact thoughts when one of our visiting family members grabs my favorite coffee cup out of the cupboard to enjoy a nice fresh cup of Java. What really comes out of my mouth? "Hey ahhh, I think that one still has grounds in it. Try this one." Or perhaps, "Good Morning, opps, that one's cracked, let me pour you a fresh cup." I deftly grab MY CUP and hand off one that I stole from work about six months ago.
Honestly, there are some things in this world I am willing to throw down for, and this is one of them. Seriously, how strange is that? A coffee cup? I had to ask myself what makes this small piece of sentiment sooooo important?
I examined this chink in my armor and realized it's the sentiment and value that I place on the time with my old friend. My cup waits almost a full 24 hours for me to carefully extract it from the cupboard and pour that morning steaming sunshine into it. Sounds corny doesn't it? But is it? If my cup was a puppy it'd be the one with the tail just flailing, ears back, tongue hanging out, eye's saying "Pick Me! Pick Me! Pick Me!"
And I do J And I'd wager that you do as well. Just like yours, My Coffee Cup fits perfectly in my hand, just the right size, just the right warmth, just the right amount. It's, well, Just Right. Much like my favorite pair of work boots, which is another blog entirely, this piece of pottery has history with me. We've shared the dawn of my best days, my worst, and many that have some and gone. Truth be told, perhaps the reason it's so special is the time we get to spend with the other love of my life. Each Saturday morning we pick our best friends out of their hibernation, fill them to the brim and share tales of our hope for the day. All four of us, experiencing the most uncluttered time of the day. And who doesn't love Saturdays? The bonus day!
My heart truly skips a beat when I see a relative reach for my friend as it proudly sits there, unsuspecting, unable to protect itself, waiting patiently for my hand to guide it to the coffee pot. For like my beautiful spouse, you are the one I chose. Amongst all the others.
Hiding you in the back of the dishwasher or my side of the bathroom during holiday visits is not above me. You mean that much, your friendship, your memories, your loyalty.
I look forward to many more mornings together, sharing the dawn of new day, preparing to make history.