TEA AND ADDICTION

It was a cold, cloudy day and I had slept in.

I woke up alone, rolling over in bed

Scrunching down deeper in the soft comforter

And closing my eyes.

It would have been so nice to drift off

Into the lightness of sleep

But my head and tummy were both demanding tea

And I had no choice but to obey.

I was an addict.

The hardwood floors were chilly,

This was sweater and socks weather.

And after I set my water to boiling,

I lit a fire in the family room,

breathing in that beautiful scent.

Usually the crisp, cool air gives me incredible energy,

But today …

I just wanted to curl up under an Native American blanket

I had bought on my travels in Arizona,

And read my latest, most favorite book.

The sofa was calling my name.

No computer, no phone, no television …

Just me and a book.

I got out my favorite tea service,

An antique set handed down from my Grandmother

On my Father's side.

And was mesmerized by the scent of the Darjeeling steeping.

Back in the family room, I was happy for the rare quiet,

And put on a vinyl album of Chet Baker's best.

The trees in the yard were all showing a magnitude of color,

It was a work of art.

The tea was ready and I brought in the service,

A little honey and a cup.

Heaven

I breathed it in, it was magic, it was Zen.

I was at peace, inside myself, outside myself.

Peace.

Suddenly, noise violently fractured my calm.

The front door slammed, heavy footsteps walked across the foyer,

And into the family room.

I closed my eyes, thinking he'd get the picture.

How could he not? It was painted perfectly before him.

“Hey ...” he waited and I sat perfectly still, eyes closed.

“Babe?” that voice, a voice I have been listening to for more than twenty years.

I just couldn't ignore it. 

I looked up at him, eyebrows lifted, hoping he'd buy a clue.

“Wanna?” He asked, and all I could see were those blue eyes ...

Blue eyes with the most mischievous smile.

I laughed, but I couldn't resist.

I was addicted.