I woke up this morning with an intense need to write.
Maybe it’s because I fell asleep reading The Time Traveler’s Wife (which is amazing, I’m obsessed),
I’m not sure.
But this is what I wrote.
Also, I’ll have some new posts up this week.
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I wake to a call from my mom. This has been the way I’ve woken up for the majority of the past 10 years. Thoughts are a jumble in my mind. I left my door open so the cat could sleep with me, and my room hasn’t retained any heat. I shiver…it shouldn’t be this cold yet, it’s not even November. I look outside and the sun is shining, but not with warmth. It’s the start of a new day….a cold day, but a new day anyway. I go back to sleep for 15 minutes, then it’s time to get up. I stretch slowly, then sit up and crawl out of bed. Mornings are always blissfully hazy; it takes a while for me to wake up. I find a pair of pajama pants and put them on and then a pair of socks is next. Finally, a cardigan, buttoned once at the top. I stretch and try to wake up, but it does nothing. I walk downstairs and put on my coat. It’s new, and it’s perfect. I admit that I didn’t really need it, but as soon as I saw it I knew I would end up buying it. It’s actually more of a mix between a sweatshirt and a peacoat, but I call it a coat anyway. It’s purple and it has 2 big rows of four big buttons; only one row actually has a purpose. It has a hood and a collar and it is gorgeous, and cheap. It matches my scarf perfectly; it’s plaid… different variations of purple and pink, white and yellow. I put my keys and phone in my pocket and pull on my boots.
I step over the gate that goes in the door of the kitchen and say good morning to the dogs that are confined, much to their disdain. They yip and bark and jump like they haven’t seen a human in ages, which, I suppose, is the case for them… It’s been a few hours since my mom went to work. I greet them and step around, to go outside. I walk outside and breathe in the cold morning air. There’s frost on the ground, on the trees, and you can see my breath. My car is completely covered in frost, but thankfully the defrost setting will take care of that. I unlock the door and crawl in, turn it on and the car is instantly filled with music. I turn it down and take a second to enjoy; this is the mix I made for Tyler, and it’s perfect. Every song means something to me, to us… I set the heater to defrost and shut the door. I turn and look at everything around me… the sun, fresh from rising with just a touch of orange and pink, glistening in the frost-covered grass; the fog in the distance, the exhaust coming from my car, curling upwards like smoke. It’s a beautiful morning and I am happy to be alive.
I come inside and make tea. I drink tea almost every day, and I have for the past 15 years. When I was younger, it was always the same: cheap black tea bags, maybe Lipton, with plenty of sugar and milk. It’s always been the same color as my mom’s coffee…. beige, tan, nutmeg – there are so many words to describe this color. In recent years, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered other kinds of tea. I’ve discovered that chai will always be my favorite, followed closely by earl grey, and that I’m not a big fan of berry teas. I’ve discovered that I much prefer honey to sugar, and that I will never enjoy plain green tea. For me, black tea with milk and sugar will always be the taste of my childhood.
Today, I decide, is the perfect day for chai. I pull the container out of the cupboard and choose a tea bag, although they are all the same. I get my favorite cup, which also happens to be my mom’s favorite. It is technically mine, I got it for Christmas from Arizona three years ago, but my mom likes to pretend it belongs to her. It is the perfect size for tea, or coffee. I heat the water the same way I always have; almost 2 cups, in the microwave for 2 minutes and 30 seconds. I get the milk from the fridge and the honey from another cupboard. Then I wait. Isn’t it amazing how slowly time seems to pass by when you’re waiting for something? I stretch and yawn, and wait and wait and wait. Finally the water is done heating, so I carefully remove it from the microwave and pour it in the cup. Instantly, it starts to change color. This part always amazed me when I was small, watching the clear water turn to brown. This is still one of my favorite parts, when the water is transformed to tea. I can smell the spices, each one unique and separate, and I am filled with happiness. After a few more minutes of waiting, I add a ridiculous amount of honey and the milk. The transformation is complete…..from water to this delicious, familiar thing that is now in front of me. I choose a travel cup, one that I know has a matching lid, and pour just enough in to get me through the 10 minute trip to the high school.
Now, it’s time to leave. It is already 7:50, and school starts at 8:03. We are always cutting it close, because I am lazy and love to sleep in. We go outside and get in the car, and I’m happy to see that the windows are all defrosted and the water droplets are sparkling in the sun. We make the trek without conversation and without anything interesting happening. There is fog and moisture and haze on the horizon, but I know it will be gone soon enough. There is a haunted warehouse near our house, open for the week before Halloween. We arrive at the school and then I’m leaving again, dodging buses and kids and cars. When I turn the corner, the sun is bright and shining and for a moment I am filled with happiness, because I am alive. I drive and drink my tea and enjoy these little moments of my life.
When I get home, I finish my tea and put the cups in the sink. I step over the gate again and take off my coat, scarf and boots. I go back upstairs, take off my sweater and socks and crawl back into bed. As I lay there warm and cozy, buried under covers, our cat comes back in the room. She meows that tiny, adorable little meow and I am in love. She curls up on my foot and I am surprised that she feels colder than the blanket. I glance at the other side of the bed, Tyler’s side, and wish he was here. I am always filled with this sense of loneliness when he isn’t here. It is so strange that I’ve come to think of it as my side and his side, but that really is how it feels. I stretch my hand out and feel the coolness of the fabric. I look outside and it is beautiful. Not that dramatic, breathtaking kind of beauty, but it is still beautiful. This is the first thing I see most mornings; the road and pine trees, houses and street signs, branches and leaves. The sun is shining, warming the world, and there is water dripping from the trees. I close my eyes and drift back to sleep.
