Autobiographical: a tea break that gave me time to miss someone

A cup of tea is always welcome

She flicks her wet hair back behind her shoulders and the cold wetness gave her bare shoulders goosebumps.

Plugging her earphones into some soft gentle swing music of the olden days, where men were men and women were beautiful and strong.

Carrying the kettle to the tap she hums along to a melody she didn’t quite know but knows enough about Swing to make an educated hum in accompaniment to the band.

Sprrrrrrrsh, plonk, click, the kettle is now ready to heat up. Her wet hair begins to curl at the ends as the warmth from her body teases the hair into curls.

Dancing on the spot, listening intently to the music, a band, an old time band, who knew how to woo, as her hips swing around the kitchen and her feet follow the rhythm, with a pretend lead leading her dance. Lost in the music she imagines him with his hand around her waist, or even, in the small of her back, reassuringly.

Psssffffffttttttt click bubble bubble bubble, the kettle boils awakening her from her reverie. Leaving a few moments for the bubbles and steam to clear, she lifts the kettle and pours hot water into the mug, no airs and graces here.

The tea stains the water like ink and she sits beside the mug for a moment watching the water stain darker, and the tea develop into something to savour. Then she notices her hand is still around her waist.

The music sways on and she imagines the kind of man who would woo over time, as opposed to the man who is in a hurry to prove her coyness and suspicions wrong. Where were the old time wooers? Where was the man willing to romance?

The tea is a darker shade now and looking good enough to pour onto a canvas. She loves the sound of the water filling the cup. A small splash of her vegan milk is her own signature touch.

Lifting the mug, she blows gently on the tea before it touches her lips. The music in her earphones fills her head and the band bring the dance to a climax.

Her loose hair curls into waves about her shoulders from the warmth of her body. The music and the heat from her tea give her goosebumps once more. If only he was here to share it with her.

Published by

LucyBower

From tiny acorns mighty oaks grow.

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