Being true to my 30 day challenge

I am seated, preparing for entry nineteen

The contours of my chair are moulded to me ergonomically

A feature not shared by the too high wooden table

Upon which my arms rest, sleeves rolled up, bare skin cool against its surface

I hear the suckling and quick but barely audible breathing of my baby while he’s nursing

The perfume of his sweet baby-ness lingers

As I pause my typing

A quite stillness falls

My keyboard hushed

Reaching less than arms length, feeling my skin brush against the table’s grains

My hand is warmed by a cup of rooibos tea

Raising it to drink, its earthy, nutty, faintly vanilla scent embraces me

Footsteps across the room, the makeshift studio where my partner paints

The floor creaks against his weight

I imagine the sound I hear is a rag wiping against the coarse canvas

Then the thud of a frame being moved in preparation for the next

I feel the temperature drop

Winter is lingering

A reminder to start the fire for the evening

I anticipate the sound of crackling wood

The scent of red gum that pervades our clothes even when the fire is out

And the last of its embers radiate their heat

My partner gulps his tea and catches my gaze

I tell him what I’m doing, diligently compiling a list of all I hear, smell and taste

He asks “can you smell my earl grey?”

No, the floral notes of bergamot don’t travel well across the room

Or lose to the caramelly sweetness of carob rice cakes

Bite sized portions that lull me into gluttony

I hear the rustle of the packet as I dig around for the last remaining morsels

Followed by the crunch as I bite

The velvety smoothness of the carob melts, aided by the warmth of my tea

My heart recites poetry as I watch my baby, his eyes now closed

I’m content in the moment

Afternoon rolls slowly into evening


Write a list that transcends its orderly or numbered format (prompt from this DPchallenge, with list based on things I could smell, hear and taste at the time of writing).

6 thoughts on “Bliss

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