Same Cup, Different Zip Code
Mr. Bear Drinks Nothing
There is something quietly sacred about the first cup of the morning. Not in a precious way, more like muscle memory that actually means something. At home, when Snuggles is around, I make her a double. She takes it to work. I make mine. We don’t really talk about it much, we just do it, and that small unremarkable ritual turns out to be one of those things that holds a day together before it even starts.
Then she leaves for California on a work trip, and suddenly I’m aware of the absence of a thing I never thought twice about.
So here I am in the van, making coffee like usual, and she’s out there somewhere in the sunshine doing her double, probably warm, probably not sharing her mug with a stuffed bear. I, on the other hand, am. Mr. Bear sits there looking very dignified in his bow tie, and I offer him some coffee like a reasonable adult, and he declines, because he’s stuffed, and also because a single drop on that fur means a trip to the dry cleaners, and honestly the look on his face suggests he would not survive the experience.
The thing is, the routine still happened. Just across a few states, in two different places, with two different mugs, one of which was only decorative.
That’s the part worth holding onto, I think. Not the coffee itself, not even the quiet of the morning, but the fact that something we built together keeps running even when we’re apart. It’s not symbolic or poetic. Or, maybe, we are just addicted to caffeine.
March 28th: When Plans Derail
March 28th has a knack for throwing curveballs, from moving mix-ups and tech switches to brutal bike pushes and knocked-out-cold moments by woodsheds. Looking back across the years, this date consistently delivers the unexpected, and somehow we always muddle through anyway.
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