Blessings

These are the short dreams that filled my mind with savory sensations last night.

The jaunt about the cities.
I was walking, not with any purpose at all mind you, but just ambling down the half-filled city streets at dusk. I was wrapped up warm and tight, nestled in my softest scarf and thickest mittens. I was surrounded and jostled at times by laughing friends. I took a moment however, just a moment, to remove myself from their glee and notice the warm glow cast by the streetlights lining the snow-dusted sidewalk, adorned with wreaths and big red Christmas bows. The naked trees weren't so naked with their bright white lights all twisted around the bare branches which cast their light and warmth into the coldest places of my heart. The flakes fell from the sky whose clouds reflected the glow of the lamps and lights which brightened the street even more. I watched the tiny, beautiful frozen crystals of water fall lazily, gracefully down from heaven, it seemed and felt them resting, then melting on my rosy cheeks. A an older couple across the street walked slowly arm in arm enjoying the same scenes that I was. Two of my friends grabbed hands and raced past me leaping with spunk and laughter. A father and his young daughter stand outside the next window we pass as we walk pointing to the stunning Christmas tree on display inside decorated with intricate ornaments, each picking their favorite. The next door swings open to reveal a small coffee shop, packed with people all enjoying soft carols and the wonderful smells that usually accompany such places wafted out to greet my chilled nose. The soft din of friendly conversations and more melodious laughter followed me as I passed the small cafe. Taking all of this in, I felt a soft and gentle peace settle in my heart, quietly though, just like the snowflakes settling themselves on my skin. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, a smile playing on my lips, preserving this forever in my mind.

Cooking and company.
A friend and I get out of the warm car and scurry quickly through the heavily falling snow and icy cold into the warm, inviting store. Once inside, we take a quick glance around and I breathe in deeply, smelling the freshness of the vegetables and the distinctness of the spices. We grab a basket each, unzip our thick jackets and begin in aisle one, walking slowly, talking about this and that as we walk and look at all the healthy, organic foods around us (this is not your typical grocery store). We grab this and that and place them gently into our slowly filling baskets, dreaming of the final product that will be ours to devour soon. We laugh and joke and share with each other. Nearing the end of the final aisle, I remember two things I have forgotten and rush away to get them before we check out.
Getting home, we bring the bags of food into the warm and spacious kitchen, peel the layers off ourselves, leaving on our most comfortable jeans and soft sweaters, our wool socks too of course. We unload everything and put things in their proper places. The bottle of wine we purchased just looks too good so we uncork it and fill two glasses with the rosy liquid, cheers to each other, and enjoy the savory flavor as it slips over our tongues. We both open our eyes at the same time and smile at each other and giggle a bit in pleasure. I decide that we simply cannot continue without some grapes, bread, and cheese, so I plunge back into the stocked refrigerator and pull out the fancy cheese and grapes we had just purchased. My friend grabs the baguette and begins to slice it as I begin to fill a platter with cheese and grapes. We sit on wooden stools across the counter from each other and each indulge heartily in our perfect feast. We begin to talk and plan out the meal that is soon to fill the house with delicious and enticing smells and soon find that we cannot wait to get started any longer. She goes to turn on the soft Christmas carols in the background and I clear counter space and adorn the apron with the biggest, most gawdy Christmas tree on it and smile at my choice. We begin making the sauce first and chop loads of vegetables to put in and engage each other in conversation that only the best of friends, sisters really, can have with each other. Conversation that is based on a history of friendship and events and trials together and intimate knowledge of the other person and their personality, habits, desires, and so forth. The vegetables are poured into a bit pot with olive oil and the burner is turned on and they begin to sizzle and cook and emit their sensuous smells. We both stand over the stove together, taking turns stirring, enjoying the colorful medley we have concocted together. I tear myself away to begin preparing the other parts of the meal, for it's too soon to make the salad, I say. She leaves the simmering sauce as well and begins to set the table, placing two candles in the middle and cloth napkins beside every plate. Her mother wanders in and compliments the chefs and says what a pleasure it is to have me in her home once again, it has been too long, she ventures. I laugh and thank her, for I missed her as well. I find my way back to the sauce, stirring it lazily to prevent the blackening of the beautiful vegetables. I add some spices and casually tip the bottle of wine over the mixture, growing excited for the joyous meal. My friend cracks one of her dry jokes and I double over in laughter because they truly are awful, but I do love them so. A while later, the meal is finished and all laid out on the table. We call to her family and they saunter in, testing the limits of their pants at the sight of this feast before them. We stand together by the stunning and laden down table quite pleased with ourselves and the masterpiece we have created together. We introduce the meal and her family expresses their approval and eager desire to begin feasting. We all join hands and thank God for the blessings of friends, family, conversation, food, and beauty and ask him to bless our meal together. Then we all look up together, sit down, and feast. Glasses clink together, forks and knives chink on plates, and bowls of food thud on the wooden table as they are picked up and set down and passed around. We drift between silences where our mouths are all full with the most delicious food, it seems, that we all have ever tasted and moments of chatter and laughter. All the while the Christmas carols continue to serenade us in the background.

Tea.
The kettle on the stove screams out that it is ready and filled with boiling water, perfect for tea. I grab two giant mugs, the ones that someone needs both hands to hold, out of the cupboard and place them on the counter. I pick up the kettle and slowly pour the steaming water into the mugs and then quickly drop the tea balls into each and watch the color steeping from them, escaping as if from nowhere in the most sultry of ways. The steam rises lazily, but fascinatingly, from the surface of the water and I watch captivated by the small beauty of the scene. I pick up the cold spoon from the counter and stir each cup haltingly, not wanting to disturb the wisps of bright color still steeping from the tea balls. I remove both tea balls and set them in the sink and place the tea on a tray, already laden with fresh, homemade cookies and bring them into the living room where my dear friend awaits on the couch, staring out the half-snow covered window, as the snow storm rages in beauty outside. The fireplace in the corner emits crackles and pops and I grab the big, fuzzy blanket that was keeping my seat on the couch warm for me and wrap myself in it. I sit on the couch and lose myself in the softness, reach for my tea and a cookie and settle back, tucking my feet under my friend to keep them toasty warm. We each smell the calming and peaceful smells wafting from our cups of tea and face each other and smile. The conversation begins.


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I woke this morning with peace in my heart and a smile on my face. I can't wait to come home!