deep dish (IV)
It’s a new day. My side of the street is getting a bit more sun than usual. I am brought to my feet by an upward shooting wind. I slightly crack open a window and light some incense. I start to inspect every corner of my home to see how it may look from a new pair of eyes. A little mist on each plant as I blow away some dust from the leaves. The pictures on the wall are starting to look a little crooked, Ah, never mind that… I open my cupboard and instinctively begin to push the mugs that were in the back to the front. Each mug has a different style, feel, design, shape. Ah, I’ve forgotten how this one felt in my hands. I like really big cups of tea that prompt me to use both of my hands while holding them. Sometimes resting one hand underneath the mug itself and when it’s really hot: cupping my hands around the entire base. A part of me feels excited to see the way someone else's hands will grip around each mug. I wonder if they tuck their pinky underneath too, and where their thumb rests... If they hold it away from their body or close to their chest.
I peruse the tea section of my cabinet looking for the perfect one. Something mellow and causes rise, not overwhelming, yet refined. Mmm, I remember this tea.. you can really taste the leaves in this one, but the other, redolent of roses. Right next to the cupboard is a little packet I prepared that shows you the perfect temperature for the water to be at and the exact amount of time to steep each tea. I think I’ve perfected the process of each blend in my cabinet and am delighted by my selection. I set all that aside and unconsciously applied the exact same filters when I stepped into my closet, pushing the clothes that were in the back to the front. Nothing too rigid or flowy. Casual, comfy, cute. The diffuser in the hallway: 7 drops of rose essential oil and 3 drops of lavender to balm the winter blues. The mist is already starting to move different. It takes a shape of its own and traverses through every corner of the hallway, stopping to say hello to every trinket on the walls and counters. A particular hint of sweetness not previously detected. Time is flooding into the spaces like tidal waves.
*Knock Knock Knock*