Tea

The flames of the gas burner whisper their morning ritual, licking at a teal blue kettle. In your sleepy stupor you lurch from the stove to the kitchen window to take in some outdoor view. Your eyes wander.

A card rests on the windowsill. It says no good thing ever dies.

Your life is changing. Many of the good things you once knew are gone - living under the cozy umbrella of authority, having the difficult decisions made for you - and it’s not like you could find those good things again somewhere. They just aren’t there anymore. You’ve changed. Grown older. Grown more cynical. Gained perspective.

A whir of bubbling water joins the whisper by the stove, and a wisp of steam curls from the stainless steel teapot lid. You wander from the window to the stove, and watch.

It’s harder to draw strength from memories, but you know that the good things you’ve had will always be with you in your mind. The card was a good reminder that no one can take them away. And anyway, there are new things. Good things, hopefully, in time. You have never felt so inspired. By everything! And you’ve never felt so alone, but not just alone; independent. You feel more free than you’ve ever felt, and it’s making you understand why people choose college, choose the army, choose a nice steady corporate office job. Being free is scary, and the emotional toll is heavy. But you have ideals, and talents, and you are stubborn.

The wisp of steam intensifies into a jet of steam, and a gentle, high-pitched whistle choruses the boiling point of the water. Click. The flames puff out. You drown your tea bag in the boiling liquid and relish the warmth. It melts the existential dread back into a deep corner of your brain, where you can mostly ignore it. It reminds you of the good things, the comfort you’ve known in your life, the fun that has bloomed over the years. _Spring will come again.