Mugs

To chose the coffee mug that's best, one must first consider size: it must be big enough to hold a good amount of hot beverage, perhaps 20 minutes' worth of coffee, or an hours' worth on Sunday mornings. And it must fit your hands, the shape allowing for clutching on stressed mornings, graceful handle-holding while reading, or reverent cradling with both hands when you just have to hold it up and inhale the steam. It should be heavy, insulative, so that it gives off warmth even after your coffee is gone, but not so heavy as to prevent use of the handle with two fingers and a thumb. It should feel unbreakable in your hands, for "dainty mug" is an oxymoron. It should fit its name, Mug. Simple and sturdy and reliable. Not complicated, with no pretensions. The perfect mug is comforting, familiar, and accepting. It may reflect you, your personality, or some past experience ("My brother went to India and all he got me was this mug"), but it does not have to. Similar to cats and dogs, you may find that odd stray you picked up for no reason turns out to be your favorite, more affectionate and compatible than your best-planned attempt at kinship. I, for one, favor a cup with "COFFEE- light" written on it, and I prefer my coffee quite dark with loads of cream on top, or tea. I guess I find its very contradiction relatable. I often find myself cuddling with it long after I've finished its contents, just because it keeps warmth so well, and it's smooth curve is pleasing to my hands.

You may say this is silly, waxing so poetic over a coffee mug. And perhaps you don't care what kind of coffee mug you use, have never even considered the concept. But if you can't seek perfection in the little things, where will you ever find it? Big things are never perfect. Life is never perfect. Some people say perfection isn't possible at all. But I think the smaller you go, the more perfections you'll find. Even when the world seems shattered, there are still tiny shards without flaw.