Shades of Tea

Honeybush

"Eating is not merely a material pleasure. Eating well gives a spectacular joy to life and contributes immensely to goodwill and happy companionship. It is of great importance to the morale." - Elsa Schiaparelli

I woke up just before the sun rose. Sliding out from under the warm covers I threw on the fluffy dressing gown that was draped on the armchair beside me. Before I had fallen asleep Dylan had left some slippers beside the bed, for which I was now grateful. I made myself a pot of tea, taking the cup with me to back window. Snow had probably started sometime in the early morning because it was falling heavily. I finished my cup before throwing on my jacket and boots to go outside. I glanced at Dylan who was still fast asleep, looking so peaceful. Slipping out the back door, my boots fell through the thick downy snow.

Closing my eyes, I let the snow fall on my face and hands feeling each snowflake land on my skin. I blinked away the residual flakes from my lashes. Being out here in the mountains, breathing in the fresh air made me feel free. The suffocation I felt at home under the city pollution was something I had begun to accept. Middle school was torture, I could never fit into the social classes of the school. A quiet scholarship girl wasn't going to find her place in a rich private school where all the children looked down upon those less fortunate.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Dylan was leaning against the door frame in his own dressing gown. "There's something quite magical about snow. The way it falls, the way it feels on your skin. It's always cold before the snow, but after? After, the snow blankets the earth like a warm sheet. The skies clear and the white ground shines brightly under the sun. Did you know that each snowflake is different? The pattern can never be repeated. Each little flake is unique in its own way but it becomes lost in the masses and then you can see the beauty only as a whole."

I shivered as a gust of wind blew past, changing the course of the snowflakes. "I heard there will be a snow storm later, so it's best if we stay here tonight." Dylan suggested. I made my way back to the safety and warmth of the cabin, stuffing my gloves into my jacket.

Can I start the fire this time?

"Sure. If you need any help then give me a shout. I'm going to make some coffee. I love tea and all but I'm having coffee withdrawals."

Tea is far superior than coffee. It has some flavour, coffee just tastes bitter.

"Not if you have the right roasted beans, and if it's made correctly." He grinned mischievously. I just rolled my eyes and kneeled before the cold fireplace. Dylan had left a pack of matches beside the fire-poker. Almost immediately the warmth of the burning wood hit my face, thawing my frozen fingers. There was something quite hypnotising about the movement of the flames as it licked the wood logs. I liked how calming something so dangerous could be. I liked the blending of the colours, orange, yellow, red, flowing together under the breath of the air. Anytime my home became tense I'd burn through at least half a box of matches, just watching the stick burn close enough to singe my fingertip. The quiet flame provided a calm my household could not, helping me build a blockade against the terror I endured.

Who are you Dylan? I typed as he sat down beside me on the couch.

"I'm a barista. I provide a sufficient caffeine fix for those who walk through my cafe."

What you do doesn't define who you are. I stated.

"Agreed. So what do you want to know about me?" He asked, taking a sip of his aromatic coffee.

Why are you doing this? Why are you taking a complete stranger across the country on some ridiculous mission? I don't understand you.

"I'm discovering the world, just like you. I'm remembering all the reasons why I fell in love with life. There's always more to the picture than what we see at first glance. Take it in your stride and appreciate all we have because in an instance we can lose everything we love."