There was this cup I loved. It may have been when I was a child, it may have been when I was just past childhood. I didn't mind that other people used the cup. It kinda made me happy - someone else liked the cup as much as I did! Though I didn't like it if it were left out. Didn't the cup deserve at least to be placed in the sink, to be cleaned & reused? Never mind, it's not a long walk to the kitchen, I'll take care of it.
One of the things I liked about the cup was that it was kinda large. Not quite a bowl - not like those absurdly large French cups that are basically bowls that they slurp coffee out of. No, but big enough for a small snack - I would sometimes put a bit of Captain Crunch in there, eat it like a bowl of cereal although, let's be clear, it was a cup.
Another thing I liked about the cup was that it once said something on it - something written in black, maybe something funny, maybe the cup was stolen from someone's work place. Anyway, time & use had scraped most of whatever was on there off, so there were slight outlines, almost like smudges, or like spots, where (you knew) something was written, but you couldn't make it out & probably didn't remember if you were the one who got the cup in the first place.
Which means, of course, that the cup was a white cup, but not ivory white, just kind of white. Like coffee cups in cafes. White with a little hint of sadness from overuse. Not that the cup was sad! It was a good-natured cup. Always happy to be occupied, even if the liquid inside was just sitting there, grown cold from being ignored. Possibly its good nature came from the fact that it had never been chipped. There were no chips on the cup. It was as solid as the day it was made.
One day I became convinced there was something written on the bottom of the cup. Have you seen that? Like in a ceramics class, sometimes you write something on the bottom of whatever you made. I remember a girl friend of mine - someone who disapproved of my smoking back in the day - making me an ashtray, & writing her name on the bottom. To me from her. Anyway, this was before any of that, but still at some point the thought seized me that there was something written on the bottom of the cup. & I think it occurred to me when I wasn't in the house. I was somewhere else - maybe school - maybe just out playing - & I decided, I need to check to see if something was written on the bottom of the cup. The thing is, I don't know if I ever did. To this day, I'm not sure if anything were written on the bottom of that damn cup.
Like many things I've loved, it disappeared one day, this cup. I must've drank out of it hundreds of times, used it for cereal & ice cream & maybe even soup. As far as I know, it was never broken, it was never damaged, it just at some point was no longer in the house. Maybe it was decided it should be sent to a garage sale for an extra quarter, or maybe someone kept it in their car (it was too big for a cup holder though), or maybe my mother took it to work & left it there. One day it just wasn't there. I remember, some time in my high school years, looking for that cup, & it wasn't in the cupboard & it wasn't in the sink.
Did I lament the loss of the cup? No, I just used a different cup. Or a glass. Though I did reflect on that cup from time-to-time. I missed it. It was a cup that I loved.
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