Maybe I was in a hurry. Maybe I wasn\u2019t careful enough. Or not as careful as I usually am. The soap on my hands made the mug slick. Maybe sometimes accidents just happen and that\u2019s all there is. <\/p>\n
Anyway, I fumbled it. Felt it slip from my grasp as fingers scrambled to catch it. The \u201cclank\u201d from hitting the porcelain sink in the kitchen was a sickening sound. The handle broke free, and a chip looped through the air for dramatic effect. As if to say, \u201cLook at me! I\u2019m flying!\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cOh no,\u201d I gasped. <\/p>\n
The coffee mug was dead. <\/p>\n
Odd really, now that I think about it. I have never held any affinity for mugs. Not like others do. Put a new coffee mug on some people\u2019s desks and you would think they were just given gold. Or a baby animal. They cherish it. Go ga-ga over it. Promise it a college fund.
\n<\/p>\n
I always think: \u201cIt\u2019s a bank mug you got for opening an account! You\u2019re drinking from a billboard!\u201d <\/p>\n
But my mug was different. It was either a birthday or Father\u2019s Day gift with a large photo of my daughter. She must have been 4. On her head was some sort of Thanksgiving hat made from brown construction paper. It had an unidentifiable drawing that could have been a turkey, or a Pilgrim, or a spaceship. Who\u2019s to be sure? <\/p>\n
She was wearing one of those kid grins they get when really pleased with themselves. At that moment, they don\u2019t realize they used too much glue and the hat has now permanently affixed itself to their hair. But this photo only captured the proud smile \u2014 all teeth and beaming eyes. <\/p>\n
I hardly recognize the face on the mug anymore. She\u2019s changed so much in the 7 or 8 years I\u2019ve had it. And I\u2019ve taken care of that mug for that very reason. Never ran it through the dishwasher. Never let anyone else use, or even touch it. Only hand washed it. Once I even polished and buffed it. <\/p>\n
It\u2019s treasure, and I saw myself growing old with that mug. Drinking from it until some health agency deemed it a community hazard and dispatched a special team to take it away with a specially-designed tool. <\/p>\n
Only now, after all these years, it sat shattered in my hands. <\/p>\n
\u201cOh no!\u201d<\/p>\n
It hurt more this year than it would any other. Going off to seventh grade seemed so anticlimactic at the start of school. Like it was old hat and no big deal. Growing up has become routine. Maybe it\u2019s because the future \u2014 big scary things like high school and teen years and driving and college \u2014 don\u2019t seem like they\u2019re the future anymore. They\u2019re within easy reach. Is that why the broken mug seemed like so much more? So much pressure for a piece of glazed pottery. <\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll get you a new one,\u201d my wife told me when she saw it. <\/p>\n
But I\u2019m not ready to give up on this one. I think I can rebuild it. Give it new life. I\u2019m not ready to let go, not until the Health Department comes with their fancy tool and declares it a community hazard. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Maybe I was in a hurry. Maybe I wasn\u2019t careful enough. Or not as careful as I usually am. The soap on my hands made the mug slick. Maybe sometimes accidents just happen and that\u2019s all there is. Anyway, I fumbled it. Felt it slip from my grasp as fingers scrambled to catch it. The \u201cclank\u201d from hitting the porcelain sink in the kitchen was a sickening sound. The handle broke free, and a chip looped through the air for dramatic effect. As if to say, \u201cLook at me! I\u2019m flying!\u201d \u201cOh no,\u201d I gasped. The coffee mug was dead. Odd really, now that I think about it. I have never held any affinity for mugs. Not like others do. Put a new coffee mug on some people\u2019s desks and you would think they were just given gold. Or a baby animal. They cherish it. Go ga-ga over it. Promise it a college fund.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[573,561,557,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1792","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2018-nutshells","category-family","category-getting-old-er-older","category-parenthoodandchildren"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1792","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1792"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1792\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1793,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1792\/revisions\/1793"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1792"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1792"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nutshellcity.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1792"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}