Traces of cayenne tingle on my tongue as I sit, stretching my shoulder and inhaling the heat of it.
Silhouettes from the loft balcony above the street survey the night scene.
And for a moment, the girlish chatter fades as the tea shop purveyor wafts by, the scent of cinnamon and powdered sugar lingering long after he passes.
These are my stolen moments.
My time before dawn or after dusk.
Spent in coffee shops or in the Silverstream in our front yard or savoring a Bloody Mary or a slice of pie after a yoga class.
Always with my notebooks – and feeling like a stowaway. Teetering between engaging in and avoiding the courageous conversation that I know I must have. Glancing sideways at my own first step.
I take a deliberate bite of a chocolate sable
Sea salt and rich dark chocolate crush and melt on my tongue now.
Slices of an inner life… MY inner life…
The spicy lead in tempered with salty sweetness
Unfolding only when I provide the space for it to do so.
Elaine Katherine Watson | Santa Barbara, California