A Cup of Something

I stare into slowly forming bubbles of warm milk, slowly, hypnotically whisking.
The last time I made myself a cup of warm milk, it was in the deep darkness of night, beneath a star-studded sky during my week of rented cottage bliss late last summer.
It is as comforting as I remember.
The steam soothes my gritty eyes, while the gentle sweetness blankets my tongue.
I remember needing it then, last summer, begrudgingly awake for long hours as I grappled with my mind.
This time, early summer evening, I’m not sure why I need it – just a sense that it would help.
Help what, exactly, I don’t know.
I’m more – not exactly at peace, but something close to it – than I’ve been for longer than I can remember.

And yet, I’m floating in a vortex, bombarded by storms of emotions not my own.
Dearest has been a wreck for months on end – he wasn’t on the surest of footing last summer before he drove himself crazy with home renovations, and it just got worse from there. Then came the liquid diet episode, in which my man de-evolved before my very eyes. And now, it’s the famous budget cuts, the federal government downsizing. He’s not been himself for so long that I’ve just about forgotten who that is.
My work environment sucks – due to that same downsizing.
And Bonhomme has fully entered his dramatist phase.
Of course, there’s also my monthly maybe-I’m-pregnant-this-month?-nope-not-yet thing.
And so – storms.

Still, there is a stillness in me. It isn’t always accessible, and my running thoughts take over the driver’s seat much more than I’d like, but it’s there. Frequently. Consistently. Daily. Not hourly, not quite. But periodically, every day.
It soothes me. Like warm cinnamony-honey milk. Curling its fingers through my hair, stroking my cheek.
It is me, whispering to myself: “I am here.
I am still here.

A warm hug sits in my stomach now, mug empty.
I feel that I’ve been visited by a good friend, who brought fresh flowers and a laugh with her, let the sunshine in.
I still don’t know what exactly a simple cup of warm milk helped – I just know that it did.

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1 comment so far

  1. Mary Champagne (@tweepwife) on

    I loved the imagery of that warm mug of milk. And I loved the line, “still, thee is a stillness in me”. And there really, really is. If warm milk helps to remind you then drink it. Often. Hope things settle in your home.


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