I have a coffee mug problem. Ask my housemate, ask my office mates–ask my son. They’ll tell you that the coffee mugs proliferate like rabbits in our quarters. I want to say that I don’t buy them all, that most are gifts or swag, but that would be a liar’s lie. I just like them and when I see one that I like, I acquire it.
The mugs speak to me and speak my mood. They mark the season of the year. They warn people away. They inspire. They aspire. They are my freak flag, and I let it fly.
By now you are expecting to see, no doubt, a photo gallery of mugs. My mugs are not here to meet your expectations. They will show themselves when ready.
Since I’m visiting family for the holidays, I don’t have my usual mug palette from which to choose, but this is of no consequence today. On this day, the first day of a new year, I had the pleasure of sipping the first cup of coffee from this favorite that I never remember to bring back to Jackson with me.
A bit of wisdom as I go into the new year: let it be. The old. The vexing. The triumph. The failure. The painful. The joyful. Let it be in the past. Let the present be in the present. Let the future hang out with itself. *
I am in my fiftieth year on this planet. On the 28th of September, I will mark the end of that year and the start of the fifty-first. These numbers should be panic-inducing, but when I look at them as words I find it much easier to let them be and to walk into this year being me.
I’ve put on my habit for the year, so to speak. Let it be. Let myself be me.
*A few other messages to myself from this photo: Knit warm hats. Make more gumbo. Take the bear to NYC. Write. Play cards. Don’t forget to do the dishes.