Daddy's Cups

When Poppy was still with us, he loved to paint. He could take anything and make it a memory. No, he wasn't my Poppy, but that's what I called him. He was my best friend's dad and I loved him as my own. My home was a broken one, but when I was in the mist of this family, I learned family values. It was just a joy to be in their presence.

Each morning, Poppy would take coffee to his bride and to Judy. And when I was over for the night, I got a cup also. Each family member had their special cup and coffee tasted better when served up with such a big lump of love....lump of sugar not required!

Poppy put each cup on a table one day and painted. Looking back, I wonder if he shed a tear or two over his early morning memories of seeing the loves of his life with sleep still in their eyes reaching out to him with a hug or a kiss or a "thank you daddy." Judy and I were teenagers then. But the many years have never faded my joy of being surrounded by her family.

When I was in Natchitoches last, I took a picture of "Daddy's Cups" and this morning felt the need to enjoy their presence in my Photoshop workspace.


But in spite of my fun manipulations of Poppy's painting, I still love the original best of all.