I woke in a dark room this morning on an air mattress under a luxuriously warm *faux fur blanket. The familiar sound of a spoon tinkling against a delicate correlle tea cup was heard. I suspected the precise smell associated with this gentle noise was Earl Grey. Slightly orange-y with just a touch of cream and sugar.
I was at Grandmere's house. Twenty-some years have past since I have grown accustomed to waking to this sound first thing in the morning and it's comforting that some things never change. I reveled in my cozy blanket for twenty minutes before joining her in the kitchen.
"Did you look outside?" she asked.
A light dusting of snow covered her neighborhood. Her new kitty Quill sat perched on an end table intently eyeing the squirrels stealing treats from the bird feeder outside. The ground looked hard and frozen. As for the three of us? We were warm and happy inside.
*And by "faux," I probably mean real.