Isn’t it cute? A vintage 1950’s Tommee Tippee sipper cup exactly like the one my mother said was mine. Not my older sister’s. Not my baby sister’s. Mine. The one I drank from even after I didn’t use the mouthpiece anymore. The only one Mom ever offered me.
The one I couldn’t look at because it scared me to death.
I used to look at it. When I was a toddler, even at the worldly age of two, I could face that little Tommee Tippee with a smile.
One day, when I was three, I looked at what he was doing. Really looked. With a penetrating stare and eyes that grew wider and wider.
He was drinking. He was drinking from a cup like mine. He was drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it… drinking from a cup with his face on it…
My heart and my breath started racing. Just like they did back then.
I knew with every cell of my being, every philotic thread connecting me and my soul to everything that is and everything that isn’t, that this went on
I was looking directly into Infinity. I could see Eternity.
Mom had told me not to look directly at the sun, but she hadn’t warned me about Infinity and Eternity. She never hinted that if I could see them, They. Could. See. Me. And that moment, my friends, is when I truly began to become who I am.
Well, that moment and the one on Christmas Eve when I was two.