STB Coffee Prompt Week 70 | The cup

In previous years, to enjoy my coffee to the fullest I had a favorite mug, it was an enameled metal cup, with a little red petal flower painted on one of its sides and a black rim on the top. That mug was special to me, as it was given to me by my beloved grandmother, may she rest in peace.

I remember that every afternoon I would go to her house and she would welcome me with a delicious cup of coffee, my dear grandmother always put my coffee in that white cup with some parts without the white enamel. I could not say why, but in that cup, the coffee had a different flavor, which led the senses almost to an ecstasy of delight, flavors, and smells.

The same coffee in a different cup no longer tasted the same, I tried it and tried it with many different sizes, materials, and colors. It did not have that sublime flavor that filled the mouth with that intoxicating exquisiteness. I thought that my grandmother put something in the coffee, but it was nothing special, the secret was in the cup.

It was my favorite moment of the day when I would pass by my grandmother's house and she would welcome me with a cup of delicious coffee in my favorite cup, she knew it and that is why she kept it just for me.

Before she died, my grandmother gave me the last cup of coffee with that unmistakable flavor. After I was delighted with the most wonderful cup of coffee, my grandmother approached me with those slow movements and took my hands. That sublime instant was like something magical that I had never felt before.

From that moment on, that enameled metal cup was one of my favorites when it came to drinking coffee and enjoying those moments to the fullest, but not everything is perfect, there came a fateful day when I lost my favorite cup, after moving and when I started to fix it, I discovered that the cup was not there.

After searching in many places, I made up my mind that I would never again drink coffee with that unique and wonderful taste. After that terrible day, I bought many enameled metal cups, but none came to be bought like the magical taste of that cup that my grandmother gave me as a gift.

To this day, I don't know if it was something special or a love that was poured into the mug in my grandmother's name or if it was something beyond logic. For the time being, I have not found a cup like that, with that mystical power to envelop the taste buds. At present, I do not have a mug or any other special object that makes me enjoy coffee on another level. Perhaps it could be that I have already had it and I have not found an experience equal to the one I had in the past.