9 – My Comfort Cup

My Comfort Cup

By Beckie A. Miller

All of us surround ourselves in our lives and homes with things that are comforting.  Consciously, we may not always realize we are doing so, as I was only recently made aware of in my own life. I often drink my morning coffee in a Mason-jar cup. They are hard to find in the stores where I live in the big city and often I stock up on them on trips home to Kansas.

Inevitably my last cup broke the other morning. I almost cried and then berated myself for being so upset over such a little thing.  After all, I had dozens of regular coffee cups in the cabinet, though I always grabbed this particular one. I told myself it was not just any coffee cup but a Mason-jar cup! While it is not the most earth-shattering, negative experience in life, much soul-searching went into my thought processes in order to sort out the feelings of why I  wanted to drink only from this one.

My comfort cup, as I named it during this soul-searching, has a place in my hectic, fast paced life of big city living, although I have a small horse ranch within the city limits. It reminds me of  a gentler, slower, and old-fashioned era in my life. Quite simply, it takes me back to yesteryear — tree swings, front porches, wheat fields of Kansas, and grandparents — all are gone from my life now.  It also brings back memories of our large family holiday dinners and

picnics. Metropolitan city life does not always allow for these.  Living thousands of miles away through job transfers changed these things and of course, our family has grown older, grandparents and parents have died: times have changed.

My comfort cup brings all of those I have lost back to me, as well as my eclectic potpourri of country decor and city sophistication in my home. The mix of sea shells in my bathroom, strawberries in my kitchen and my doll collection, with the modern computers, and big-screen television. I even entertain guests with my good china but serve their drinks in Mason-jars. (Picture that Emily Post!) My heart cries out for the old as I embrace and need the new in my attempts to reclaim the warmth of the past.

Each cup that breaks upsets me because when I search for another in the stores, I may not find one. Yes, my coffee would taste the same in any cup, but it would not be the same emotional hug that I receive each morning with my special comfort-decanter. The warm feeling of memories that remind me of past, special times and loved ones in my life – homes once shared and a gentler era of time in small town city life.

Those of us who traded rural life for the city could bring a little old-fashioned charm and comfort into the daily grind of our city living. It is a part of our heritage. After all, rural America is the image of ‘Mason jars’ not neccessarily apple pie?  Many of us have moved away from small-town America and that is progress and not all bad. What could be wrong though, with salvaging the hometown feel and blending it with city sophistication?

Simply bring some of the old traditions, our legacies from past generations, with us to the cities we now call home. In place of a regular coffee mug, try drinking from a Mason-jar cup. Grandma would be proud. And if everyone would start buying them the local stores would stock their shelves high, and I would not have to fret about finding another comfort cup to

receive my morning, comfort hug.

“Mom,” my oldest daughter whined from the kitchen. “Where is my “Taz” glass?”

“Did you check the dishwasher, hon?”

“It’s not there or in the sink,” she screamed, as I heard dishes rattling loudly as she searched.

“Use another glass.” I replied.  “After all, won’t any glass do?”

And this from a woman who cries over a broken coffee cup!