When I open the cabinet, there’s the espresso cups we got from drinking, sadly, bad coffee at Matto. Burt pleased me by going with me and suffering through a cup, then escorting me to the subway. I don’t remember where I was heading, but it was a lovely morning.
This is pretty much the train of my memories. The objects in the pantry or the mug closet remind me of Burt; memories flow from there.
The first reminder, the little cups which were mostly for Burt’s use, of course made me smile. Burt’s espresso cups. From there, that day came flooding back to me. And then, a lot of lovely mornings with Burt.
What would I do without these lovely reminders, stepping stones to my memories, I wonder.
I know something else would bring a legion of good memories. They would rush at me, and offer me a new good morning.
this is our life 