By Jackie Boeheim 
It’s been 22 hours since our last meeting and I’m starting to feel the dust collect on my handle, much like you I presume. I hunger for our early morning moments, as we keep one another company amidst the disorder. And I know you anticipate our dates, maybe even more than I. For you begin your dreams of coffee meets mom before you even close your eyes at night. We are Johnny & June, William & Kate and maybe even Kurt & Courtney (toxic but inseparable).
You are beautiful at daylight. The clumsiness you display is joyful. Without you, I feel cold, aloof and empty. My handle perks at the sound of your alarm clock, I’ve become used to the little voices that call for you at daybreak. Your name is elegant and captivating, mommy. I sometimes wonder if their call for you competes with mine, if the sweetness in their voices is sweeter than mine, if the richness in their admiration is deeper than mine.
I wait patiently for your touch. Knowing that my Sippy Cup friends will of course be filled first. And if I’m honest, they’ve been quite pestering today. They are hyper, busy and a bit reckless. I’d like to discuss placing them in a cabinet far away, but we will review that possibility at a later time.
The muted sounds of cartoons begin and I know it’s almost my time. It’s almost our time. I hear the drip, drip, drip and yearn for the richness to fill us both. You lovingly save me from the darkness of the cabinet and bring me into light. Seeing you is a cure to the emptiness I feel and I am suddenly brimming with steaming passion. The strength of the coffee dances above me in a melodic and soothing way. With both hands on me, you close your eyes and take it in, letting the aroma run through, relaxing you for the first time today.
You are ready and eager to take the first sip, warming your body and sparking your mind. But it’s the call for hunger and pulling at your leg that stops you, before your first sip, you set me down to tend to others. That’s what I cherish about you, the way your heart lifts up those in need, the way you put your desires on the backburner. You glance at me with sorrow in your eyes, “It’s OK,” I want to whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I feel the steam lightening and disappearing into the air. I feel the chill of the coffee cooling. I know what’s coming, the roadblock in our relationship, the separation that occurs, the mistress named Microwave.
I spin around, warming on the inside, aware that my ingredients won’t taste as worthy. This won’t be the only time I’m confined to the quaint warming machine. I will visit her many times today; you are as loyal to her as you are to me.
Your little ones are settled with breakfast, they remind me of you, they look like you and talk like you. They are steadfast and restless, you take a deep breath and enjoy your first sip of coffee, we both know interruption is looming.
Instead of sitting with me (oh how I wish we could have quality time) you begin cleaning the leftover dishes from last night. The plates and bowls are food crusted and muddling your brain, interrupting your desire to rest with me. You wash and dry, all the while protecting me, your favored, untouchable companion.
I visit Microwave again, routinely spinning and warming.
We join your family on the floor. They decorate you with toys and shout demands like, “play with me. Look at me. She pushed me.” I encourage you to drink me in, for I calm you and improve your outlook on these situations. Upon placing me down I feel the spray of one of those tiny destructive humans, your daughter has just sneezed in me, contaminating the contents. You don’t care; our love is stronger than a sneeze. You take a sip.
We hustle around the house, me sloshing back and forth, you getting multiple people dressed. Our time is coming to an end.
You deposit me in the Microwave once again, and I refresh to the sound of silence, its warmth, and the restful hum. I wonder if you receive these rejuvenating breaks throughout the morning.
You retrieve me once more and I see it. I see the travel mug. He’s big, he’s burley, he truly goes everywhere with you. Jealousy looms as you empty me to fill him. Before rushing out, you carefully hand wash me and place me back in the cupboard. Until tomorrow my love, I am awaiting daybreak.
by Chelsi Cacciatore 
by Krystal Sieben 
by Joy McLaughlin 
by JD Arbuckle 
by Valerie Sawicki-Bellomo 
