Monday, September 04, 2006
Mugs
Mugs can’t talk, therefore, they can’t tell a story per se; however, each mug has had its unique fill of tales. Do you remember the time I sat with Billy over that cup of English tea? It was a beautiful mug decorated with pansies, chrysanthemums, and light pink ivy geraniums. Oh, what a conversation that was, and the tea was delightful with just the right amount of honey in it. I didn’t really know much about the war until I sat next to her on that rainy afternoon. It was quite amazing really. Her husband flew a mail carrier over the Himalayas and his plane engine went out during one of his flights. The plane soared down for thousands of feet, like a great eagle with its wings tied. And all of a sudden, as if an angel from heaven intervened, the plane’s engine kicked in, and her husband, Cub, was alright. Well, that wasn’t his real name, but that was what everyone called him. You know how that works. We all have a nickname of some kind, like how you call me Missy Moo. It makes no sense, especially given that I’m now thirty years old, but I love it nonetheless.
That reminds me of my red and pink poinsettia mug. Do you know which one I’m talking about mother, the faded one with the permanent coffee stain around the top? Do you remember the time you brought me some fresh squeezed orange juice in that mug because we were all out of glasses in the cupboard? Well, it was reasonable given that the twins had just been born. Oh, they were so tiny and it was such a miracle that they made it. That orange juice hit the spot. My body and spirit were so tired, even too tired to sleep; my mind was stirring with a whirlwind of thoughts and my body ached throughout. You helped me so much during that visit. I’ll never forget the laundry you folded; oh, weren’t their little socks so tiny? The home-cooked meals were scrumptious and you even got outside and trimmed my climbing rose bushes. But the all-time act of service was your attempt to clean our shower that was covered in mold and slimy residue. I’ll never forget all the physical needs you met of ours and even more so, the time you gave, just listening to my joys and concerns. Oh, I’ll never forget that wonderful glass of hand-squeezed orange juice. I never would have thought of adding a squeeze of lime to it. It was delicious.
Oh and then, there’s my chipped and faded Santa mug. Remember our first childhood Christmas away from home, how we flew up to Washington to visit Gam and Grandpy for the holidays? It was so cold; you could feel the iciness all the way down to your bones. Upon our arrival from the airport, Sissy and I got unpacked and then decided to go outside exploring. It was frightfully chilly, but with so much adventure on the horizon, the cold had to be dismissed, momentarily anyhow. After seeing several deer and some beautiful blue jays, we decided to head back to Gam’s humble home. Redwood was heard crackling in the antique fireplace; their cat Fluffy was asleep on the arm of the blue corduroy sofa. Gam saw us coming and before we could sit down, she put a cup of warm hot cocoa in each of our hands. She even included those miniature marshmallows, the multi-colored ones that I still love. I’ll always cherish my Santa mug with its big fluffy beard and jovial smile. Likewise, I’ll always treasure that special time up at Gam’s.
Wow, that smell is wonderful mom. It sounds like the coffee is done brewing, so I’m going to go and get myself a fresh cup of coffee. Would you like a refill in yours? Is this mug new? I’ve never seen one quite like this. Where did you get this one? This one belonged to Great Grandma Sally? It sounds like she was a pretty incredible lady. I’m not sure if I could have raised eight kids on my own, let alone in the Midwest before there was electricity and running water. Oh, tell me some more about her adventures when she was overseas with the Red Cross. I really like that one about how she met Great Grandpa Arnold. It’s so humorous, it doesn’t seem quite possible. Are you sure you’re not adding in a few creative details to make it sound more entertaining? Wait, don’t start until I’m back with the cream and sugar, I want to hear every word.
That reminds me of my red and pink poinsettia mug. Do you know which one I’m talking about mother, the faded one with the permanent coffee stain around the top? Do you remember the time you brought me some fresh squeezed orange juice in that mug because we were all out of glasses in the cupboard? Well, it was reasonable given that the twins had just been born. Oh, they were so tiny and it was such a miracle that they made it. That orange juice hit the spot. My body and spirit were so tired, even too tired to sleep; my mind was stirring with a whirlwind of thoughts and my body ached throughout. You helped me so much during that visit. I’ll never forget the laundry you folded; oh, weren’t their little socks so tiny? The home-cooked meals were scrumptious and you even got outside and trimmed my climbing rose bushes. But the all-time act of service was your attempt to clean our shower that was covered in mold and slimy residue. I’ll never forget all the physical needs you met of ours and even more so, the time you gave, just listening to my joys and concerns. Oh, I’ll never forget that wonderful glass of hand-squeezed orange juice. I never would have thought of adding a squeeze of lime to it. It was delicious.
Oh and then, there’s my chipped and faded Santa mug. Remember our first childhood Christmas away from home, how we flew up to Washington to visit Gam and Grandpy for the holidays? It was so cold; you could feel the iciness all the way down to your bones. Upon our arrival from the airport, Sissy and I got unpacked and then decided to go outside exploring. It was frightfully chilly, but with so much adventure on the horizon, the cold had to be dismissed, momentarily anyhow. After seeing several deer and some beautiful blue jays, we decided to head back to Gam’s humble home. Redwood was heard crackling in the antique fireplace; their cat Fluffy was asleep on the arm of the blue corduroy sofa. Gam saw us coming and before we could sit down, she put a cup of warm hot cocoa in each of our hands. She even included those miniature marshmallows, the multi-colored ones that I still love. I’ll always cherish my Santa mug with its big fluffy beard and jovial smile. Likewise, I’ll always treasure that special time up at Gam’s.
Wow, that smell is wonderful mom. It sounds like the coffee is done brewing, so I’m going to go and get myself a fresh cup of coffee. Would you like a refill in yours? Is this mug new? I’ve never seen one quite like this. Where did you get this one? This one belonged to Great Grandma Sally? It sounds like she was a pretty incredible lady. I’m not sure if I could have raised eight kids on my own, let alone in the Midwest before there was electricity and running water. Oh, tell me some more about her adventures when she was overseas with the Red Cross. I really like that one about how she met Great Grandpa Arnold. It’s so humorous, it doesn’t seem quite possible. Are you sure you’re not adding in a few creative details to make it sound more entertaining? Wait, don’t start until I’m back with the cream and sugar, I want to hear every word.
