Teacup

Oh, teacup!  You've sat in the china hutch so long I can't even remember where you came from.  Probably a garage sale or a flea market somewhere, maybe the last remaining pieces of someone's grand collection from way back when.

I know so little about you, only that you came into being in early 1942, a time of turmoil for our country and just about every family in it.  You were once someone's brand new prized possession; she looked at you and marveled over the soft beige china and the delicate soft pink, yellow, orange and purple flowers nestled among the olive-green leaves.

How many cups of steaming coffee did you hold in the last 70+ years?  How many pieces of delicious gossip were you privy to between the neighbor ladies?  Did she fill you with aromatic tea, as I have today, and quietly ponder life as you commiserated with her?

How did you and she part company?  Were you passed on to a thrilled and grateful daughter or granddaughter?  Were you among family heirlooms at an estate sale?  Were you treasured every step of the way between she and I?

We enjoyed a tranquil and contemplative time together this morning, you and I, something we'll have to do more often.  And soon I will introduce my own granddaughters to the simple pleasure of good tea in a beautiful old cup.  Thank you.