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It’s early in the morning, in the beginning of august. 6 am and the only sound hearing is the cheery chirp of birds. I’m up early, as I don’t usually wake up at this hour. Going into the kitchen I smell fresh basil and it seems so perfectly matching with the breezy pale of wind coming through the window. Oh, and we were so waiting for this times to come so that the heat would cool down. I’m having one of these moments of peace when all the house is asleep and in its silence I can hear C ‘s breathing, the fade squeaks of wood from the furniture and the water slowly starting to bubble up in boil. It’s a peaceful moment and I appreciate its every second.
” When I walk into my kitchen today, I am not alone. Whether we know it or not, none of us is. We bring fathers and mothers and kitchen tables, and every meal we have ever eaten. Food is never just food. It’s also a way of getting at something else: who we are, who we have been, and who we want to be.” Molly Wizenberg, A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table, 2009
And as I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a cup o chamomile tea, I think of life and blessings, reminding myself of the love we are sharing, the sweet present and future to come. I am thankful and a smile blossoms on me.
I have a sip from my cup and think of chamomile as an honest tea, the original herb tea, an ancient infusion used for healing minds and bodies alike. Tiny yellow flowers seem small suns and the tea looks like the golden summer infused in a cup. I never stop wondering how God has put all of nature’s perfection in our hands.
With its medicine like taste, the tea awakens me and shakes the sleep of my face. I need all the energy I can get for the last day of the working week. And as the sun casts its light on my cup, I prepare to wake him. I know it’s time!
I gently wake him and whisper a soft “‘morning”. I get a smile and a kiss. Now tell me, how can a girl get any luckier?
Later edit : It’s almost august, next year and I still feel like the luckiest girl in the world.