Most of us have some trinket or souvenir from our past that we've kept around for sentimental reasons. A postcard, a shell, a stuffed animal... or in my case, a coffee mug.
For as long as I can remember growing up, that mug was Dad's Mug. Coffee, cocoa, anything hot went in that mug.
When I was getting ready for college, we spent weeks making lists and making sure I had everything I'd need to survive dorm life. Sheets, pillows, blankets, food galore, clothes, laundry soap, dish soap, dishes, etc. A set of silverware and a plate and glass... and a mug. But I didn't take just any mug.
I went to Dad and I asked him - when he was in a good mood - if I could take His Mug. I didn't explain it to him - we don't have that kind of relationship - but I think he knew that I needed a little piece of home along with me.
He hemmed and hawed a little bit, then consented to parting with it.
It went to college with me. It survived a year in the dorm, a move home, a move to an apartment, a year there, another move home, and then ten more moves over the following years. It's still in one piece, and it's still my favorite mug ... even though it's still Dad's Mug. When my parents visit, Dad still gets his hot drinks in that mug.
It's not much to look at. Nothing sets it apart from any other mug in the cabinet. It's not the largest, or the smallest, but it holds more than coffee for me. A whole lot more.
Thanks, Dad.
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