In a cupboard full of mugs, she always pulled out this one. Each early morning before work and school she would pour a steaming kettle of water into it with swiss miss mix, and a smell like hot chocolate would waft over to me as I ate my cereal. She would stand in the bathroom, curling her hair, applying her makeup, listening to the radio, sipping her swiss miss from this mug.
When I was older we would share it, and when I had gone away to college, each visit home was a visit with this mug, which she would let me use to satisfy my own nostalgia.
Now it sits in my own cupboard full of mugs. Each morning it follows me from room to room as I do my hair, put on makeup, get dressed for work. Or on Saturdays, as I wipe down counters, fold laundry, read a book.
There are just some things that keep her with me, even if she's gone.
And like I know so many of you might want to, here’s a link to buy your own vintage Taylor & Ng mugs on their site or on Etsy, including Le Chat.
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8 comments:
Oh the stories the stationary objects in our lives could tell. I love this beautiful memory, creatively framed.
I can totally understand. My very special turquoise coffee cup up north is the one my dad always used.
Sweet, sweet post, Bethany. It's in these small things that she seems to be hanging onto you as well.
Beautifully written!
This was heartbreaking to read. Objects take on a strange sense of importance once the person they represent is gone. I know I'm attached to certain things that belong to people I've lost. I really admire your strength in writing about this.
Thank you so much, Hila.
Funny how small things like that can take on so much significance, right? Glad I'm not the only one who holds tightly to it.
Definitely, Andrea. In so many small ways, I feel her every day. :)
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