The Orange Cup

Memories are made daily, some last a short time while others a life time. Those in the life time category usually involve loved ones that, because the memories are so long lasting, have departed this life but memory remains. This is a tale of the Orange Cup. Maybe you have one too?

This morning I rose early because the daily chores list was long and well this being December, the last month of the year, the daylight hours are short. So, I rose in cool darkness, walked to the kitchen intent on making a hot drink to start my day. I opened the cupboard door and reached to the second shelf where I keep an assortment of coffee cups and I think there isn’t a match in the whole darn set but I like it that way because each cup has a meaning and place in my heart. I peered into that second height shelf through squinted tired eyes and I saw an Orange Coffee Cup waiting for its next use. I picked it up by a familiar handle and held it in my hand. I suddenly zoomed back many years in my mind’s eye; I saw my father holding this very same cup, sitting in his chair, legs crossed, at our kitchen table in my childhood home drinking a cup of Joe. I kind of heard in my mind a familiar voice, “Good Morning Pard!!!”

A smile crept across my face and I knew from all of the possible cups to be had the selection was made. I would have a cup with my dad this morning.

I fixed a hot cup but not the same as my dad. I stirred in a tea spoon of Pero and a little more Honey ending the process with a quick little sniff. You know on a cool winter morning there are few things better that the smell of a steaming hot cup.

I held that Orange Cup in both hands where I felt the hot liquid inside. I returned to the warmth of my bed, crawled under the covers and drank my hot cup.

Thoughts returned to those childhood days when trouble seemed distant; I was protected and safe in every way. I had a clear picture of the man who made my world that way, sitting at a table that is now long gone, in a time far distant, but this cup that I drink from remains with me still. I suspect there are many who spent time in our home at reading this tale will have a similar image in clear focus now. I wonder at the stories they would tell.

My memories remain with me right to this day. I’m thankful for the home that my parents supplied and the life lessons, the experience, and the skills that were passed on to me. All of those memories and so much more; for I know where I come from and that is much of what makes me the man that I am.

So as I finish my cup, I think in my mind. “Good morning Pappy, we best get a move on!!!”

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