Dear Half-Finished Cup of Coffee

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Dear Half-Finished Cup of Coffee,

Mornings seem better when you’re around. I appreciate you, even if you sometimes feel neglected or forgotten. Sitting alone there on the bathroom counter. Or the dresser. The fireplace. The washing machine. Oh yeah, the neighbor’s bench. You’ve been around the house a time or two for years. Thanks for always hanging in there. And sticking around.

You’re so patient with me, as I tote you from one room to the next and set you down. Then, pick you back up. You’re pretty sneaky when you play hide and seek. I cannot find you for hours. And I often forget we are even playing the game. Sometimes not until bedtime. Whoops. There you are. I accidentally find you. After bath time. Sitting there on the bookshelf looking like a cold mess. You’re not so steamy morning fresh at 8 p.m. Me neither.

It’s always fun when you accompany me on those short freezing cold or hot morning drives to school. I’m sorry for all of the times I’ve left you outside in my cup holder, half-finished. Or for that morning(s) I left you up on top of the van. What a mess.

Hey! Remember when we first had the boys and I used to reheat you in the microwave over and over again and then leave you there all day? You, poor cup of coffee. What kind of scatter-brained and irresponsible coffee drinker does that?

Oh. That’s right. An easily distracted mom. Like me.

I’m sorry if you get tired of being reheated or have ever felt trapped or hopeless in our splatter-stained microwave. You should know that I need you. I truly do. You’re a real trooper, as resilient as a beverage could ever be. Please don’t tell my evening half-finished beer I said that, OK?

I’m going to make a promise to you on a less busy morning in the future. You can hold me to it. When I’m old and less rushed, with an empty nest, I will sit down with just you, and maybe my husband, too. In proper coffee drinking fashion, we will commune at the kitchen table. I won’t go anywhere. I won’t carry you around. I won’t forget you in some foreign land outside of the kitchen. I will stay right there with you until I can see the bottom of your mug. I may even have a refill or two to make up for all of the mornings you’ve put up with me.

Thank you for never expecting or requesting or demanding anything from me. Thanks for your steadfast, loyal presence in my life.

Yours truly,

Your favorite non-morning person

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