Even as I take my first step, the anticipation begins. Many things lose their appeal after we experience them often. Not the case with this morning delight. It deserves a special celebration each fresh day.

I did not select this beautiful mug that sweetly reminds me to lead with love. A dear friend did, and I think of her as I reach for it every morning.

This mug is not just any ordinary cup. I love everything about it: that it was a gift, that it is heavier than my other mugs, which makes holding it somehow more substantial. The weight is not so much that it is heavy, but that it is solid. That contrast with the liquid magic inside makes my lips curl upward.

The tingle awakens my spirit even before the first sip.

Even as my hands hug the toasty mug and I head back to my workspace or back to the comfort of my bed, my heart warms with appreciation. I find myself gazing at the little heart that pops with contrast against the burning red mug.

Even the kitty seems to know it is special, peeking over the rim as though aware something good is about to happen.

Coffee may not be completely universal, but most people I know understand the reward it brings. The thought of starting the day without it carries a small grief of its own, one I hope never becomes real.

When I saw the mug resting on my grand’s dresser, the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Hey, that’s my favorite mug.” But I thought about it afterward, and it is so special that denying her the same pleasure seems almost cruel.

This is why the mug matters, and not just a little. Its appeal reveals itself every morning as I gaze lovingly at her.