My morning coffee has been replaced with morning tea. Oddly, the mugs which were never stained by coffee are becoming tea stained. In fact, the tea stain is only at the fill line, as if the steam from the tea is actually what has done the staining. Modern life tells me I could google the science behind it, but tea doesn’t make me feel modern so I leave the query unanswered.
My stained tea mugs remind me of my grandmother’s mugs. Every mug she had was brown on the inside from all the decaf tea with Sweet ’ n Low she drank. This morning past I pulled a mug out of my cabinet, very automatically, and unintentionally focused on the tea stain and my chest felt hollow. It made me long for the time before my grandma passed away. Some days are easy without the ones that used to be there. Some days are hard.
I’m not a very emotional person. Movies make me cry but my own life doesn’t. And usually, I don’t ever wish things were different. Every now and then however, frailty gets a hold of me and I just wish I lived back in the time when the people I’ve lost were still around me. And then the fog horn of one of my children guides me back to my reality and I remind myself of how frail I am not.
My life is enriched by the memories I carry, not made raw-boned.
Hot pink lipstick. Sweet ‘n Low. Newspapers. Peach ice cream. Classic Country. Curlers.