The goodbyes are heartfelt and bittersweet. Cards are exchanged, and a small wrapped package is given. Everything is taken home and reverently placed on the table. The small package is unwrapped. The gift is a coffee mug. A bright blue bird sitting on a cherry blossom branch.
The first day, the mug is simply observed, like a sculpture on display. Moved a bit here and there to stay on the counter yet out of the way. Days pass, and the mug is still there, a bit dusty on the handle. Things haven't gone according to plan. More days pass. The bright optimism of the beginning has turned to the dull gray that seems to match the clouds outside. It has been raining every day for a week now.
A momentary shifting in the clouds imperceptibly lights the mug on the counter, as though illuminating it. My eyes are caught by the gleam. I stare at the mug, listening to the sound of the rain. I sit down and begin to write.
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