The moment that I've been waiting for has finally come.

When I was twenty-something years old, I found these vintage juice glasses at an Antique Market in Madison, Georgia. I couldn't pass them up and I bought them with the intention that one day my children would drink Orange Juice from them. I perched them lovingly on the windowsill in the kitchen and would admire the sunlight shining through them and daydream about my future.

Over the years, whenever I moved into a new place, I would unwrap each one and as I placed them in the window of my new kitchen I would say out loud "Now, I'm home." They moved with me six times and I've broken a few but they sit over my sink to this day. I love these little Juice glasses because they were bought with love. They symbolize all that I've achieved and all that I longed for many years. I have a little family just like I wished for in my morning ritual.

I had yet to serve Griffin any juice in them because he is a rambunctious scamp and I didn't want him to break them. The other day, he asked me about the little glasses in the windowsill. "Can I hold one?" he asked me. He studied each of them as they sat atop the window to decide which one he wanted to inspect. I gingerly handed him the one with the tiger on it and he studied it like a five year old would, with a bit of wonder in his eyes.

"Can I drink from it?" he asked me.
"I thought you'd never ask." I told him.

I washed it and rewashed it and washed it again. As I filled it up with juice, my heart swelled a bit. He gently lifted it to his lips and took a sweet sip. After all of the daydreams and wishing and praying for my future, there he was.

Finally, my kiddo drank from my beloved cup.