I was digging through the tea box, rummaging for decaf tea, and I grabbed it. Apple Cinnamon. Herbal tea.
We were at the Piggy-Wiggly in Krivitz, grocery shopping for the weekend. Eggs, milk, bacon, hot dogs, marshmallows, chocolate bars, the usual. I always need tea to wake up to, or to fall asleep to. I always spend too much time thinking about what flavor, and for some reason, I’d settled on apple cinnamon.
That weekend, the orange countertops, the stove, the cold rooms, fall creeping in on us to settle around us at night, the dogs, the fire, the lake. Drinking tea out of fragile mugs with leaves on them.
Dark. To tonight. To the restlessness.
It’s been a long time since I felt home somewhere, you know. Even longer than that.
The tea is steeping, cooling, probably too cool now.
But life is like that.