Old Cup, New Year

Yesterday I cleaned the kitchen, redding up and weeding out for the New Year. This cup went out of the cupboard and into the thrift-box...and was the inspiration for starting this blog. I hold on to things for a long time, despite that they are chipped or broken or leak (this cup is all three) because of the histories, the sentiment attached to the object. So I am trying to be tough on myself and rid myself of these things, but at the same time I cannot bear to let them go. Maybe through pictures and stories, sharing them in this way I can both hold on and let go~ life is a hard thing, sometimes.

This cup, large, white with a design of raised fruit-the pear being my favorite part- is just an old cup that Mother bought at Pier One long ago during her endless search for the perfect cup. For Mother the perfect cup must be large enough to hold something plus have a handle that is comfortable, fits the hand. And at the time, it also had to be white- she has a love of pure white dishes. She used this cup for many years- and I am not sure why she turned it over to me- either redding up/weeding out or perhaps I admired it, or another cup came along and stole her heart. Anyway, it became mine and I loved it for reminding me of her, and because it was the perfect cup.

Every morning for years I used that cup. All during the time we lived on Oak Island, every early school morning I would drink coffee out of it, listen to the same cd and write in my journal. After every summer morning doggwalk, during heartbreak and happiness, it was a touchstone for my day. I am such a creature of habit~

When we moved to the cottage it got chipped. Then it cracked. Then I noticed it leaking a little and it was retired to the back of the cupboard for all-the-dishes-are-dirty emergency use. I started my own quest for the perfect cup, and now it's time for it to go.

Isn't it odd how the heartbreaks a little when we give up beloved objects? And that is why it is in the thrift-store box- I could not bear to put it in the trash, but I know I can't keep everything forever. Bless the cup and the morning of each new day.