The lowly egg cup.
Once there was an egg cup. A little chip graced it's bottom rim which never seemed to diminish the smile of it's apple cheeked face. It was not even known whether the happy child was a girl or boy. No matter, the egg cup did it's job faithfully and efficiently and always with a smile. Where it came from, no one seemed to know. The mother would say, "phew, I don't know, probably from Germany. It was always there on Oakley Street." She was not the sentimental sort and was not a collector of family stories. The daughter would have loved to know. She collected stories and kept alive the memories of relatives she knew and never knew. She did not know the past of this little egg cup, but she held stories of her own. Memories of soft boiled eggs for breakfast and most especially after an illness, when her mother would present her with an egg and toast, her first real meal on the road to recovery. The girl had been sick often in her childhood and the egg cup was a little friend she could count on, always smiling always offering nourishment.
Now the little egg cup lives in her house, and today for the first time, it served the daughter's little boy his first soft boiled egg. And he liked it. He liked the egg and he liked the cup. A new friendship was born and a new chapter in the story written.
Today when I got the mail, Austin said, "Mama, a chair for Austin." And he was right. The neighbors had thrown away a small doll sized highchair and it lay abandoned in the wet grass. It had been rained on all morning, but after a good rub down, it was as good as new. Of course convincing Austin that this chair is for Teddy or JoJo may take some time. "Chair is for Austin" he insists. I just hope we don't have a reenactment of Goldilocks and baby bears chair.
Hope your day was a happy one.