I don't know what kind of men have coffee cups they are attached to - I think it's the same kind of men that keep t-shirts as souvenirs instead of wearing them. And I married one.
Well, anyway, on to the coffee cup.
It was dull ceramic black with block prints of loons embossed in a circle near the lip. It was neat and tidy, elegant, small and classy. (My husband likes small coffee cups.) In a word, it was perfect. We found it in a shop at the mouth of the Mississippi River which added to its mystique. Loons represented the vacations we took every summer to Minnesota with another family.
Enough background, except to say that he bought it in 1999 and used it until 2012. Every morning.
And I broke it.
I wish I remember what happened but I think I blocked it. "Blah,blah, blah, blah...and I broke your coffee cup."
He couldn't look at me. Nor would he talk to me. Suddenly I was aware I had done something that was close to, for Cal, unforgivable. I can't say I understood it but somehow it had become one of those processions that morphed into a part of his identity, security, well being. AND I HAD RECKLESSLY BROKEN IT.
I would not hurt my husband on purpose for anything. But this was an accident. Surely we could replace a coffee cup! I ran to my computer to look online. You can find anything on the internet. I knew I could replace it.
Strangely enough, it was not the case then, nor has it been the case since. Cal and I both look periodically to see if we can find his coffee cup. I keep thinking what a wonderful surprise it would be for Christmas. I still can't believe a mass produced coffee cup does not have a mate on the internet.
And the broken pieces of my badge of shame still lay on a shelf in the basement. I will probably bury the shards of pottery with Cal and hope they too will be resurrected someday and I will be forgiven.