It was easy to stay in bed this morning. The air is undeniably cold. I hate the cold. The sound of the waterfall, calming during the heat of the summer, creates a cerebral dip in the temperature.
As I walk down the carpeted staircase, I can easily detect the countless creeks of both knees and I wonder how many more years I can get out of them.
Alone in the kitchen, I fill my well splattered copper kettle with fresh water, position it on the best possible burner, and wait for it to boil. The earth toned travertine tiles, soothing during the summer months, now heighten my chill as I alternate my pink furry sock stance – left foot, right foot, left foot, right.
To avoid staring at the kettle, I turn to my freshly charged blackberry and check incoming emails - Junk, junk, junk, junk, Jesse, Jeanie, Pandora Bee. I trash the junk and read each email, twice. The water boils. I turn toward the slender end cupboard that boarders the kitchen sink, remove 4 slate blue ceramic mugs and rest them on the cool black counter. I then glide back toward the refrigerator, swing open the door and retrieve the milk. A brisk wisp of air, welcomed during the height of the summer, sends a shiver down my spine and I clutch my pink tattered robe tightly around my waist.
And then, in the middle of my dance, I pause…. I have no idea how you like your coffee. And Jesse, I’m not even sure you drink coffee. This bothers me.
I turn to find the sugar bowl half full, turn back to the cupboard closest the refrigerator, reach high to remove the box of firmly packed raw sugar and fill the while porcelain bowl. I need to find a sugar bowl that suits my personality. This simply will not do.
I turn back around to find that you are not here. This sends a chill down my spine and sadness across my face.
I reach for my cell phone, clasp it closely and read your emails once again. A warmth rushes over me, just as it did in the heat of our summer. I am no longer cold.