Thursday, February 16, 2012
My cup overfloweth
This over-sized, ceramic glazed, earthenware mug is my favorite. It holds two cups of coffee, cocoa, or hot tea. It was a Christmas gift a couple of years ago from my oldest granddaughter, Ashley, 22, who will be getting married in four months. It is one of a matching pair. The other one is navy blue and has PaPa etched on it.
Every morning when I awake between 4:00 and 5:00 a.m., the first thing I do is fill my mug, pop it into the microwave for two minutes and then, head to the study to write, search markets, check out blogs and Facebook.
When I cradle the mug in my hands it is as if I am cradling the bald headed, blue-eyed baby girl I called my Tweety bird when she was born. This mug holds the memories of a bright precocious preschooler with bouncing blonde curls who gave me so many laugh lines; a hurt little school girl who suffered the consequences of her adults' behaviors; a non-judgmental teen who befriended the problem kids so she could help them; a bright, young woman of strength and character, with a great sense of humor and sharp wit.
In the quiet early hours I sip from the memories and can almost hear her beautiful voice singing, I Hope You Dance. In the swirling liquid I gaze into her youth and hear her singing A Capella in front of the high school student body. I laugh at her talent show antics, her college artistic ability, her way with people, her brilliance, her delightful personality.
I feel all of her hurts and all of her happiness as I hold the past in my hands. The beverage warms not only my hands and tummy but my heart. This mug represents a little girl who held hands with me and called me Nana ever since she was one year old.
These days she is busy making her own life, working, preparing for her future. I seldom hear from her unless I call her, and when I do, she usually TEXTS me back. Kids! :)
But when I wrap my fingers around this mug, I feel the warmth of her little hand in mine. Nana's girl is grown up, and she doesn't need me anymore, but she will always be my girl. Ever since I can remember, we said goodbye or ended every phone conversation this way, Me: "You're my girl!" Ashley: "You're my nana!"
These days she says, "You're my Nan." After all, she's a big girl now.
I read recently: Time passes swiftly when you get older. The only thing a grandparent really wants is time with grandchildren, a few minutes, a phone call an unexpected visit. When they are gone, will you say, "I'm glad I did, or I wish I had." I am so proud of Nana's girl.
Do you have an object that evokes special memories when you hold it in your hand?