(2/12/2013)

Some nights my mom takes a big plastic cup of ice water up to bed. We all, at one time or another, stole this cup from her. It just looked so refreshing.

Chris and Jeremy love to have us over. After Frisbee on Thursdays, it has been our most popular dinner spot. I have a favorite cup there. A plastic A&W mug that is exactly the same as one I grew up with. I sent them a picture text of my family’s mug when I was back for Thanksgiving. Now they are renovating their kitchen, and Chris brought me that cup. Getting rid of all the excess dishes and utensils.

It’s a little sad. I liked having “my cup” there. Like I have the yellow-striped glass at Jeff and Jordan’s. Or how Jordan has his global warming mug at my house. No one else is allowed to use it.

Growing up, we all had our favorite cups. And a lot of times, our favorites overlapped. A purple totem pole cup. A handled plastic mug from Rainforest Café.

Like the brown-handled spoon. Or the best books—like some Berenstein Bears nighttime poem, or Button Soup with Scrooge McDuck, or Huey, Dewey and Louie’s Halloween story. Sometimes I would hide one or all of them in my room.

Why do we do that? We have to possess this thing, so we can use it whenever we want and no one else can have it at the exact moment we want it.