Comfort

Take a look at these mugs:

 

The first three belong to my children, loving personalized with their names by my crafty sister.  But that fourth mug, the simple one with the brown stripes, that belonged to my dad.  Stained with a permanent ring inside from all the years of drinking black coffee (with a little sugar, of course), it hangs in a place of honor in my kitchen.  Although we may never use it (or I may never let my children use it), it brings a sense of comfort just by being there.  And that is what keepsakes are for.

 

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