A cup of memories

Dear Community of #Cinnamoncup Coffee.
Yesterday I lived an experience that led me to reflect on family ties, traditions and deep love that can be transmitted through a simple ritual.My relationship with my paternal grandmother was always fundamental in my life.Since I have memory, the moments shared with her and a good cup of coffee were a pillar in our connection.I learned much more than just the way to prepare coffee;I learned about the patience, the sweetness of life and the importance of small moments.

My grandmother bequeathed me a beautiful cup of coffee, adorned with a design that always reminded me of her warm hugs and the stories we shared.Every time I held it in my hands, I could feel her presence at my side.Coffee was not only a drink, it was a bond that linked me to her, a sacred ritual that perpetuated her memory and her love in me.

However, yesterday, in a moment of distraction, one of my granddaughters broke the cup down.Instantly I felt a lump in my throat and a stab of sadness toured my heart.But instead of getting carried away by melancholy, I reflected on what really matters.The cup was an object, yes, but the memories and teachings that my grandmother left me, are eternal.I shared with my granddaughter the story of the cup, what our ritual symbolized and the connection I have with it.

Through tears and laughter, I understood that, although objects can be broken, memories and traditions are indestructible.In every cup of coffee I share with my granddaughters, I feel that my grandmother is still present, living in each sip and in each conversation.Life is a cycle, and although some things are lost, family love always finds a way to last.
Also my daughter, to calm a bit the nostalgia caused by the girl, has given me a beautiful cup that I will treasure like a valuable gift from now on
Thanks for reading my blog, see you soon.

_{This post is free of AI.
The images are mine.}