I consider myself a materialistic sentimental person. I love to buy things, expensive purchases even. And yet, the things that I keep sentimental are cheap in nature but hold such intrinsic value. And to be honest, that boiled down to two things in my life. One being a dolphin necklace that had a piece of rice with my name in it inside of a glass vial and a 2006 Disney glass with Pinocchio and Dumbo on it from McDonalds. The former was never returned to me and the latter shattered on the floor just a few days ago. Fourteen years of service, that glass is surely missed. It was with me from high school throughout college and the first decade of my career.

And yet, two replacement glasses are on their way from eBay. Obviously won’t feel the same. It was faded, the artwork you can barely even make out. And yet, if only I could get the original back, of course I’d do it. It was the most static thing in my dynamically tumultuous life. I remember the day I got it, I was actually skipping class. I remember filling it halfway on the first night I became drunk. It was big enough to also be the only container I’ve ever used to eat my helping of Cookies n Cream.

Out of everything in this world that I could have chosen to “treasure” and “cherish,” it was a glass. Not the most Show and Tell worthy of all things. Just a glass. I filleth. I spilleth. I droppeth. And this serendipitous feeling of comfort and attachment applies to people, too.

Still, there’s a feeling I’ve been trying to figure out. Been more than a year now. I’ve written about it before and thought I knew but a part of me feels like there’s more to explore. Maybe in due time.

What separated this particular glass from all the glasses in the world?