life companions

If you are a coffee person like me, you will understand what follows. I am definitely a coffee person. I need vast quantities of it in the morning. Not strong coffee, like my mom used to make, but more the kind of brew, that has seen a bean or two on its way into existence. Think, I picked that rather American habit up at circumstance‘s house. But she has hers black, whereas I mix mine with lots of milk, no sugar, thanks.

First thing every morning, I fill yesterday’s remnants of cold coffee from the pot to a cup (I don’t have the patience to wait for the fresh brew) and put it into the microwave to heat, while I refill the machine to max to prepare the fresh infusion for the day. While the soothing bubble promises better taste than the stale leftover, I have it nevertheless. If only to make myself appreciate the first full cup of fresh coffee even more.

Most days I am up early enough to finish the entire coffee pot, leaving  only enough to bridge tomorrow’s brewing gap. See, I’d rather get up an hour early and start my day drinking all this coffee, than have the (often much needed) extra hour of sleep.

Understandable, that I don’t like small cups. I prefer mugs. The assortment of miscellaneous mugs and cups we own is quite impressing (as might be the case, wherever two seasoned households are thrown together). And given the laxity, with which I go about my dishwasher duties, we need them, too. It just is so, that I have favourite cups. Don’t get me wrong, I’d use any cup, just to get my coffee. But if I have the choice, I always prefer certain ones.

Originally, there was this idea of coffee sets somewhere in my imagination of a well kept household, way back when. But with time I came to appreciate the leftovers of former perfection, the ruggedness of things used often. And am in awe of the sustainability and stamina, some every day items possess. You all know, that at the very instant you get yourself – say those whisky tumblers you like so much – one inevitably breaks or gets chipped. But some other breakables seem to last forever. So long so, that they become part of yourself.

One of those items is my favourite coffee mug. I got it as a gift from a colleague and room mate of my boyfriend, who used it back then, seeing, that I liked it so much. That was 1991. I later had a serious disagreement with said colleague, communications froze for more than 20 years. Whereas I did marry the boyfriend. And separated again, which also is a long time in the past now. But the mug is still with me.

I do recall, it also had a golden brim at the top, which has been worn down with use long since. But to me, it still looks pretty, albeit the colour of the decor starts to fade a little. And it just has the right weight and feel to it, once the coffee has been poured.

Once in a while, the mug revokes memories of those long gone days of youth and also reminds me of the giver. Now, that we are on speaking terms again, at least loosely so on social media, I might thank him for this mug. I think, I never did. Properly. Not for the life time companion, Scotty has become.



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