I’m alone in my office
on the second floor of the house
that my wife and I bought together.
The first fragrant sip of coffee
comes from a souvenir mug
that I bought where they filmed a TV show.
Purchased in Roslyn, Washington,
the mug declares it’s from Cicely, Alaska.
Thanks to mom, I’m a big fan of Northern Exposure.
I was young and it was not a young person’s show,
but mom’s enthusiasm drew me in
and a book smart convict and solid soundtrack held me.
It was before streaming, TV shows were a scheduled event,
social planning was done with an open TV guide,
and Northern Exposure brought mom and I together, faithfully, each week.
Now, I am more of a reader than a watcher,
but my connection to that show, the one on my mug,
feels like a family I laughed with and spent time with.
I cried when I knew I wouldn’t see them again.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Objects Have Memories.