My Favorite Mug

9:53 AM
Gandhi was right about one thing: if we all live with an eye for an eye mentality the entire world would be blind

                ...and mugless...

I was in the kitchen working on dinner or some other daily monotony.  The kids were playing (fighting) in the living room.  It wasn't a crash - more like a THUNK followed by a darling "Uh oh," à la Noa.  I enter the living room to find her standing over the remains of my mug - my favorite mug, hands clasped in front of her, head tilted in a oh, please don't be mad at me sort of way.

I survey the massacre, feeling the loss like a physical pain.  It was my favorite.  MY FAVORITE.  It lay in two pieces, almost symmetrical, a dribble of morning coffee staining the floor like so many tears.

It wasn't in me to get mad.  Here is the truth: I left the mug on the counter of which I am well aware that Noa can reach by climbing from chair to side table.  I left it there with some naive belief that she would leave it alone, that the pretty colours wouldn't call her name, that she wouldn't be overcome with a need for a taste of whatever it is that mommy was drinking.  

She is one.  I am not. She has won.  I have not.  I shoulder the blame. 

So I gather the pieces, cradle them like a fetus in the womb of my palm, tell myself that I have a million other mugs...(but it was the only one that wasn't chipped...it was the only one lined in red...STOP IT!)  A mug is just a mug; a vessel for warmth, a comfort on a cool morning, an art piece in my cabinet.  And what was I going to do anyway?  Smash her sippy cup with a hammer?
   
I kiss Noa.  I forgive Noa.  I forgive myself. 

Rest in pieces oh favorite mug of mine...

5 comments:

  1. i love your writing. it makes me wish i were a gifted writer. oh well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. you're better than you think you are : )

    ReplyDelete
  3. I can SOOOOOO relate to this story. I am a mug gal too. The perfect favorite will never be replaced...sniff. =D

    ReplyDelete
  4. It's been three days and I still can't bring myself to put the pieces in the garbage - how sad am I?

    ReplyDelete
  5. Idea: turn the pieces into a ceramic collage that you can display.

    ReplyDelete

I love comments and I appreciate, consider and read each one. I welcome your thoughts, whether you're in agreement or not; however, this website is a happy place and I will remove any comment that I believe to be inappropriate, malicious or spam like.

Friday, April 30, 2010

My Favorite Mug

Gandhi was right about one thing: if we all live with an eye for an eye mentality the entire world would be blind

                ...and mugless...

I was in the kitchen working on dinner or some other daily monotony.  The kids were playing (fighting) in the living room.  It wasn't a crash - more like a THUNK followed by a darling "Uh oh," à la Noa.  I enter the living room to find her standing over the remains of my mug - my favorite mug, hands clasped in front of her, head tilted in a oh, please don't be mad at me sort of way.

I survey the massacre, feeling the loss like a physical pain.  It was my favorite.  MY FAVORITE.  It lay in two pieces, almost symmetrical, a dribble of morning coffee staining the floor like so many tears.

It wasn't in me to get mad.  Here is the truth: I left the mug on the counter of which I am well aware that Noa can reach by climbing from chair to side table.  I left it there with some naive belief that she would leave it alone, that the pretty colours wouldn't call her name, that she wouldn't be overcome with a need for a taste of whatever it is that mommy was drinking.  

She is one.  I am not. She has won.  I have not.  I shoulder the blame. 

So I gather the pieces, cradle them like a fetus in the womb of my palm, tell myself that I have a million other mugs...(but it was the only one that wasn't chipped...it was the only one lined in red...STOP IT!)  A mug is just a mug; a vessel for warmth, a comfort on a cool morning, an art piece in my cabinet.  And what was I going to do anyway?  Smash her sippy cup with a hammer?
   
I kiss Noa.  I forgive Noa.  I forgive myself. 

Rest in pieces oh favorite mug of mine...

5 comments :

  1. i love your writing. it makes me wish i were a gifted writer. oh well.

    ReplyDelete
  2. you're better than you think you are : )

    ReplyDelete
  3. I can SOOOOOO relate to this story. I am a mug gal too. The perfect favorite will never be replaced...sniff. =D

    ReplyDelete
  4. It's been three days and I still can't bring myself to put the pieces in the garbage - how sad am I?

    ReplyDelete
  5. Idea: turn the pieces into a ceramic collage that you can display.

    ReplyDelete

I love comments and I appreciate, consider and read each one. I welcome your thoughts, whether you're in agreement or not; however, this website is a happy place and I will remove any comment that I believe to be inappropriate, malicious or spam like.

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