Tuesday, April 21, 2009

My Mug

I don't drink coffee. I drink tea. Earl Grey. Sugar. Enough cream to turn it the color of a Brach's caramel candy.

This is my mug. It isn't all that pretty. It doesn't have a cute picture or caption. It isn't adorned with some cool design. But I fancy it. It is vintage. And it is the perfect color of green. I like its worn nature. This cup has seen many new mornings. It has been the first thing reached for...the antidote to early rising.

My Papa found this mug for me. You see, my grandparents don't quite understand my fondness for things old and worn. They raise eyebrows at my excitement over an old pink bowl found in the back of the cabinet or that aqua blue cup used to measure sugar.

One summer morning while visiting, Papa returned from his morning walk with this mug in tow. He stumbled upon it at the yard sale up the road, saw that it was old and used, and thought I might like it.

He was so right. So now, this mug is the first thing I reach for in the morning.