I'm sitting in my dining room with a mug of green tea next to me. I don't typically drink green tea but I need to go to sleep in four hours so I can wake up at six this evening and work an overnight at the store. When I wake up this evening I'll complete the ritual of pouring fresh water in the pot, scooping out fragrant grounds, and waiting impatiently for the cycle to complete so I can add almond milk and a drip of honey to my morning cup. I've started to wake up earlier than I technically need to before work so I can have twenty minutes for this coffee ritual. Twenty minutes to sit and savor and think and read before heading to a job where the time is not mine and there is no sitting or thinking.
For the past four days I've been in a casual quarantine due to a shingles diagnosis. I haven't been able to work but I have been able to spend time with Kenneth. We spent the first two days lazying on the couch because the steroids and the illness itself made me too tired to do anything but drink tea and drift into sleep. Yesterday, we cleaned the apartment and cooked crock pot ribs. We ate our meals at the table. Three meals a day, sitting across from each other. It feels right to eat together. To spend time in the kitchen, side by side, preparing plates of food. To pick out forks and knives and napkins and set the table. To fill water glasses for each other and finally, to sit. To enjoy together and to talk, or not. It is so rare for us to eat together but it does feel right when we do.
So we work, and wait (not so patiently on my part) for the day when we sit down to dinner every night.