A mug holds a memory... and tea

I have 44 mugs. I know this because I counted them. Of those 44 mugs, I only use 5.

I start my morning with my absolute favorite mug: the clear glass with a sturdy handle gifted to me by my cousin over a decade ago. I enjoy watching the mesmerizing swirl of white half-and-half mixing with the brownish-red English Breakfast tea as I pour it in. 

In the afternoon, I pick a mug that makes me happy: the one with a fun map of Door County, Wisconsin illustrated by my aunt Jean Ruth or my newest one with a woodpecker that says, “What the peck?”

In the evenings, I settle in for my final cup of tea – don’t judge the amount of tea I drink – deciding between two mugs, either the Rae Dunn “#1 Mom” mug or the one with a black and white mosaic tile pattern and a large red “B” on it. I wouldn’t have bought either of these for myself but their subtle greatness comes from their size: tall and large or short and wide, either way, I’m ending my day by drinking a swimming pool full of tea.

I have 44 mugs. 

All of my mugs pictured in the same order as they’re mentioned in this article

All of my favorite mugs were gifted to me. My newest mug - the one with a woodpecker that says “What the peck?” - became a quick favorite because dammit, I’m a birder. I was delighted to receive this mug but my delight quickly faded when I realized the cost of acquiring it.

I have 44 mugs.

Less than 10 of them are actively used between everyone in my house. That leaves 34 mugs that simply sit and take up valuable kitchen cabinet real estate.

This limited storage space is an issue. We can no longer fit any more mugs in the cabinet, which led to a new rule in our house: for every new mug brought in, an old one must go. 

But that’s the problem. 

I have 44 mugs.

Each mug has its own story: a mug holds a memory. Memories are hard to part with.

With our new rule, bringing in my new bird mug meant trading an old memory for this new one. Which memory would have to go to make space for it? 

Looking through the mugs, I couldn’t pick one to part with. Each one felt special or important in some way — holding a memory, much like how they hold my tea. 

Some are a memory of a moment in time, like the mug I got when I graduated with my master's degree or the homemade mug with my son’s 1 ½-year-old footprint on it. Others are moments when someone thought of me like my “It’s cool to be kind” rainbow mug or my white mug with a green patterned dog, both gifts from friends.

I don’t think of myself as a sentimental person but as I searched our mug collection – who am I kidding… our mug museum – I wondered if maybe I am. 

I continued my search for the sacrificial mug and spotted one of my husband’s, one that I know he never uses: a white mug with a mountain on it that says, “I am not a tuna” — so weird. How to convince him that this mug no longer deserves space in our house…

Thankfully, my husband didn’t take any convincing that the weird tuna, mountain mug no longer needed to reside with us. My bird mug could officially stay! 

I washed my new mug and added it to its rightful place in the cabinet, subtly squishing and squeezing it into the space with all of the other mugs to hold both memories and tea.

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Thanks to

Karena

and

Emma Dorge

for holding space to give me feedback.