I don't mind. It's nice to help out too. Except something touched me today.
After being in a sort daze lately, with feelings that I can't quite put my finger on... something melted me inside. When I made my Grandma Mary her coffee this morning, I asked her which mug she wanted me to use for her coffee. She was making sure once again if I was going to have some, then thinking, "Oh wait, you don't like coffee, do you?" I reminded her that I did, but I was fine and wasn't going to have any. I asked her which of two mugs I had in my hand that she preferred. She finally told me which one, and added, "Yeah, that one's my favorite."
Her voice is kind of loud, it didn't have any memorial sigh behind it... She does not talk in the quiet sing-songy voice. Nothing as romantic as you may be picturing. If you know her, you could hear her voice saying that. It's not like in the movies, it's just a moment crammed into a day as if it were a regular, unimportant memory.
There was no special story behind why the mug is her favorite as far as I know, just a simple preference for one mug over the other. Maybe because it's slightly bigger. Maybe because she's had it longer. But as I walked back into the kitchen and looked down at that mug, something inside me thawed for a moment. I didn't feel so distant, instead the words "that one's my favorite," echoed in my mind again.
Strangely, it almost made me want to cry. To know that one simple thing about my grandmother touched me. Why of all moments would that little scenario strike me? I have no idea. The odd mood returned after a while, revisiting me throughout the day. But I'm okay. I just couldn't not write about this. Grandma Mary's favorite mug.
I think it answered that silent question inside of me, that has been taking root in the back of my mind for a little while. Who is my Grandmother? There are so many things I know about her. So many questions I could ask, and I'm sure she would answer. But today she just answered one question...
"Which mug do you prefer?"