The Dancing Mug

It’s a mid-December morning and rather chilly. I am still in PJs, slippers, and heating up the kettle. I select a mug for my tea.

Almost Christmas. I think about my house, so filled with things—all six rooms—plus a basement. Surely I have everything I need on this life journey. What more could I even ask for?

As I look down at my favorite leopard robe, I think of the close friend who gave it to me. It’s been a long, COVID year and I only saw her once. Feeling defeated, I let out a heavy sigh.

I decide on something and get dressed. There’s a bracelet in my jewelry drawer sitting with the others. Purple and silver beads, handmade by another friend one holiday, shining brightly like her spirit. Picking it up, I immediately feel connected to her. How is she doing?

In the hallway I pause to check the weather through the skylight. A tiny ruby red teardrop hangs high up on a string. It’s from an old friend. Without closing my eyes, I am taken back to the day she pressed it into my hand. It felt like a million dollars.

Every winter, there are holiday recipes, snowman aprons, handmade ornaments, knitted scarves, glittered stockings, and thousands of little things that invite memories of the people and things we cherish. Warm memories that comfort us as we wait to reconnect.

Wooden Mermaid

Shuffling back out to the kitchen, I notice the painted mermaid I just received as a gift. Swimming up, colorfully, right by the door, she inspires me that friends can lift one another up with simple gestures of support and kindness.

Tea is ready and I reach for the Dancing Mug. I take my first sip each day and remember the friend who gave it to me on Christmas 20 years ago. Its heavy weight feels solid in my hand like his friendship. I smile as I think of him and how far we’ve come.

I sip my tea and am moved to dance. In the kitchen. Amongst all the memories. I am truly blessed and feel the magic of friendship surround me.

Dancing Mug

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