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2002-05-12 - 5:24 p.m.
This morning as I poured my coffee into my favorite mug I heard the ceramic
cracking. I covered my mouth muttering, “No, no, no...” as little tears welled in my eyes.
I’ve had it for years and years, my youngest brother bought it for me for Valentines Day
when I lived in my first apartment. It has a chipped rim and the handle has been glued on
several times. It says I LOVE YOU across the front. And I loved it. I loved waking up
in the morning and reading those words, feeling that warmth of having people love me
spreading through my sleep weary veins. I felt a great pride in that mug, when people
were visiting me I would drink my coffee from it with the I LOVE YOU pointing
outwards so my visitors could see that someone loved me. This morning as I watched the
little cracks separate and then crack apart, spilling coffee on the floor as though it were the
happiness that mug had brought me pouring out of its safe confines, I felt kind of sad, kind
of lonely, as if I didn’t matter to any one any longer.
And then I went to work with heavy eyes and a sodden heart.
Things quickly turned around for me. My first table of the morning looked at me with
giant grins as the father said, “Oh, thank goodness you’re our waitress, my wife was really
hoping you would be on Mothers Day, you’re our favorite,” and the two kids giggled. I
know I’ve waited on them before but they’ve never really talked to me or acknowledged
me in any way that separates me from the rest of the waitstaff. This sort of thing
happened four more times during my six hour shift. Then as I was standing at the counter
at the end of the day some other customers, who I hadn’t waited on, patted me on the
back and looked at my boss as they said, “This girl is a jewel.” Already the I LOVE YOU
cups demise was weighing less heavy in my heart.
After work I went to the greenhouse to buy flowers for my gardens. I walked in and
the owner exclaimed, “There she is!! Happy Spring!” I thought at first that he was just
being friendly, that he said this to all his customers to make them all feel special. But as I
was looking through flowers he came up behind me with a flat of dahlias and said, “I
saved these for you, it’s the last one and I know you like them.” And it’s true, Dahlias are
my favorite garden flower and I would have been devastated if I didn’t have them this
year. I picked out a few more flats and a couple hanging baskets and went to the counter
to pay. He only charged me for two flats and one hanging basket. I pointed out that my
total wasn’t what it should be and he said, “Of course it is, you’re a special customer, you
get a discount.” Hmmm...so, I barely remember the mug now.
Then I go to the bookstore. I browse around for a while, pick out two books and go
to the register. The owner comes out from the back with a book in his hands. He says,
“Hi! I’ve been waiting all week for you. I have this book for you, a Jonathan Carroll
book that hasn’t been released yet, I thought you would like to have it,” and he hands me
the book. I thanked him profusely, pay for my other two books and then go into the
coffee shop to find the barrister standing there with a proud smirk and my caramel mocha
already made for me. I felt entirely too much love. People really do like me, I matter darn
it. It was great.
I still have one mug from my little brother, it says, “I’m not a bitch, I’ve just been in a
bad mood for a few years.” Perhaps this mug is more indicative of the way he feels about
me, but I will still miss the I LOVE YOU mug like it was part of my heart that was cut
away. Someday I’ll have another I LOVE YOU mug, but in the meantime I will just get
by with all the friendly people who make my days worthwhile.
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