Cup (Oct. 5, 2019--September 21, 2026)
It didn't look like this when it was new:
The tiny bit of black was an entire football-related pattern I've long since forgotten that wore away over the years.
It probably shocks you that I do the same things each morning, even down to using the same cup, as part of a habit train to get me into my study and writing. The cup was part of it, as I had my glass of tea (Gold Peak Zero Sugar Sweet Tea, nothing else) in it every morning.
Over the years, little flakes of black peeled away. It was an image, at first, and then it became hundreds of different images over time, less and less recognizable.
I kept it because it was the weekend Gloria and I went to Ann Arbor for Parent's Weekend when Eli 25.1 was just a freshman. Part of the weekend was attending a football game, and I saved the stadium cup. Hers, too, because I like cups that size for drinking water.
Our marriage was failing, but we were still together for Parent's Weekend, and no matter our troubles, we always united over Eli. It was the one thing we could always agree on.
I realized this morning that I don't have many things from when we were together. I don't have any jewelry because I don't wear any. Maybe a shirt or two, though I've long forgotten their provenance. Maybe a journal or two she gave me. Again, though, the provenance is fuzzy.
I still have the second yellow cup. But everything else is gone, and she is, too.
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