It reminds me the many times we made pots of coffee for each other. How many times did I wake to being handed a mug of coffee by Richard. Or how I would set up the pot for him at night for the next morning because he had to get up at a ghastly 2 AM for work. Having the the pot ready for him to just hit the switch seemed like the best thing to do, seeing as I was not getting up with him. Almost to the end, while he could still swallow, I gave him a mug of coffee in the morning. Now it is coffee alone...
oil, 6"x6"
1 comment:
Lovely. And I feel the same about that first cup of morning coffee. It is almost a 'sacred' time.
I also feel the same about the cups I drink from. I'm pretty picky. I have a favorite few; all based on how they feel in my hands. I hate it when they are all dirty at once, and actually will wash one, rather than use a less favored one.
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