Sabbatical

Wow. I haven't been home for three days because I got into a fight with my parents. I was crashing at Eric's. (Not sleeping on a park bench or anything...brrrr). I won't go into that right now, but here is the long-awaited second part of my assignment.

#2: Describe a comfortable place, real or imagined.

It is Saturday morning. I’m sitting in the kitchen, slowly sipping a cup of Passion tea. The slightly tantalizing aroma reaches my nostrils and I inhale deeply. The warmth of the cup feels good against my fingers, and I am glad for a nice hot morning tea as I gaze out the window at rows of icicles.

The morning paper rustled as I picked it up, scanning the newspaper headlines for something of interest. As usual, I skip ahead to the comics and giggle to myself as I read them. Moving along, I peruse the metro section, the classifieds, and the booklets of coupons that had fallen out of the center, spilling across my kitchen table. I glance at the clock, sighing and standing up. I paused to yawn and stretch, making my way to the refrigerator.

The soft cool breeze rustled the bottoms of my pajama pants as I opened the fridge, reaching in and plucking out two eggs. I shut the door and turned around, moseying over to the stove. The skillet had been heating while I sipped my tea, so it was nice and hot, perfect for frying eggs. I tapped the eggs softly on the side of the pain, holding my breath, hoping to not get any shells in the pan this time. Satisfied that there were no shell fragments in my soon to be delicious fried eggs, I exhaled and tossed the eggshells into the trashcan to my right.

The eggs cooked nicely, and the heat from the pan was comforting. After the eggs were ready, I flipped them, waited a few moments, and slid them onto a waiting plate. Eggs can’t be eaten without salt and pepper, so I grabbed the two shakers from the top of the stove, and set them on the side of the plate. A little bit of rummaging in the cupboard to my left would produce a small tray, with handles built into the sides. I loaded up my plate of eggs, and salt and pepper shakers, and set the tray down on the table. I had forgotten all about the orange juice.

After retrieving a glass from the cabinet, I moved back to the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice, setting that carefully next to the plate of eggs on the tray. Smiling I picked everything up and carefully walked across the apartment to the bedroom. Peeking inside, I could tell that Eric was still asleep. Nothing I’d done in the kitchen had disturbed him. I smiled even wider and slipped into the room.

I set the tray down on the bedside table and walked around the bed to the window. I opened the curtains and Eric groaned. Bright sunlight spilled into the room, pooling on the bed and cascading down to the floor. I leaned over to give him a kiss, softly telling him that I’d made him breakfast. He smiled at me and sat up.

I brought the tray to him, setting everything down carefully on his lap. Then I slowly crawled into bed next to him, moving carefully so as not to disturb any of the food on the tray. He started to eat and I reclined next to him, combing my fingers through his slightly tangled hair. Settling back into the soft down pillows, I closed my eyes and smiled, thinking to myself that life could not get any better. I was blissfully comfortable here in bed with the sun shining in the window, the love of my life happily eating the breakfast I’d prepared for him, and of course, the comforter tucked comfortably around my feet.