Our Everyday

When I was a kid, we would spend the night at my dad's, I think it was every other Wednesday. In the morning, he would get us up and out the door while we wiped the sleep from our eyes. The truck would be running and the heater blasting when we opened the door. We would slide in and head up over the hill along Coronado Ave. In the middle of the dash board would be a green cup full of hot, black coffee. The steam would form a cloudy circle on the windshield.

Yesterday afternoon, we headed out to the fabric store( where else?) to pick up a few notions for some projects that I really need to finish. But before I could head out the door, I needed a cup of coffee. We had one of those fancy steel hot cups that keeps things warm forever, so I poured the coffee and the milk in the cup and loaded up the car. As I was driving out of the driveway with coffee in hand, I realized I am acting awfully adult at this very moment. I am not really sure why it seemed so shocking or why this is the first time I have ever done this (I am going to blame it on New Jersey) but there I was laughing at myself. Sadie asked what I was laughing at. What could I say?

The cup my dad used was one of those with the very narrow top and really wide bottom. It was the 80's technology at its finest, I guess. It seemed that everyone had them. I remember a friend's mom who would sometimes give me a ride to school had a pottery cup of the same shape.