Water starts to bubble from the bottom of the pot slowly making it’s way to a boil as the light of day breaks through morning’s resistance. My bare feet meet the ridges of the hardwood floors. My toes sink into the rhythm of dawn. Largo and pianissimo. Every movement a dotted whole note.
Pouring the water over leaves I come to realize that this habit has become ritual. Tea in the morning and the same quiet thought.
I wrap both hands around an oversized turquoise mug with pink peonies and hold it for few moments before taking a sip.
Filled.
I close my eyes and give thanks for another day. I give thanks for this moment and remember that I am blessed.
