I noticed it the very first time we went for a walk together, a coffee cup sitting next to a culvert. That was over seven months ago. Of course, back then, it was sitting up as if left behind absent-mindedly, ready for a refill of some French Roast or perhaps Earl Grey Tea.
Though likely, it was swiped from a mother’s cabinet to catch some tadpoles and some fun, I’d like to imagine a conversation interrupted during a leisurely enough evening stroll to allow sipping something warm to chase away the chill.
But what kind of conversation? Was it an argument? I doubt it. You don’t take the time to carefully place a coffee cup on a patch of concrete if you are angry. You’re more likely to spill the contents with your upset and then clutch it as you stride back home, biting your tongue, afraid of making the situation worse.
A secret confided? Could be, but those tend to be shared behind mugs at a table as though hiding your smiles behind the ceramic somehow cements the conspiracy. What about bad news? Probably not. Though walking can help work off some of the nervous energy those confronting difficulties possess, stopping to pour a cup of tea before setting off doesn’t suit this mood either.
Perhaps it was a young family stretching their legs after dinner days before they were to move out of the area. Their oldest might have insisted that she was too big for the stroller, and they’d yielded. She’d soon be upset enough about leaving the only house she’d ever known. What had started as holding hands turned into “Carry me and Mr. Snuffles too.” While the stuffed elephant didn’t weigh much, she was beginning to.
Stooping to scoop her up, the mug is set down to be retrieved the next day. Only it isn’t. Instead it greets my puppy and I every time we head that way. He doesn’t give it much thought though clearly I have. Maybe in a few weeks, we’ll use it scoop some tadpoles ourselves.
I’m participating in the Slice of Life Challenge. Won’t you join me?