Sunshine tap

The vanilla scented candle on my desk flickers to the northerly wind blowing over my shoulders through an open window. A car passes by. The red tea-cosy covered teapot on my desk sits solid in the gentle brew of white tea within it.

The sheer curtain behind me billows as a sail, sometimes whooshing in wafts of distant rain.

It’s the time of morning where the sun is yet to rise and this part of my world is at its clearest and most peaceful, even with the leaves rustling feverish in the wind. The siren of a police car in the distance pierces the sleepiness of the Sunday yet to wake.

It’s in this clearest that pouring tea into my ceramic tumbler surges as a babbling brook that eases to a stream as my cup fills. The aroma is delicate, grows in grassiness on the whistling wind.

Early mornings release the vivid, even in eyes shut and backs turned. They evoke the evocative. The reminiscing, the powerful recollections too valuable to ever lose.

Like sitting beside my mate days earlier, the sun warming our backs and tops of heads, sunlight penetrating hair, scalp and skull to nourish brains. The eloquence of that warmth filtering through my red woollen jumper, even in bare feet crossed under the table, is as a grandmother’s comfort. It’s a lingering warmth to realise the intense wisdom of that warmth.

Sometimes words fail me. However feelings don’t. The recall is vibrant. Colourful. Surges in emotion.

The chit-chat flowed over shiraz and fizzy duck, tasting finger morsels from the platter that laid on the table before us. All the while, inhaling the landscape that surrounded. The blue-green of the tall eucalypts, vibrant lush grass fields and farm wagon wheel, the white horses in the paddock.

Our prattling was light and cheery, but also revealing. Of thoughts and dreams, plans for the future, both near and far. Of ideals that were unexpectedly fabulous, of revelations that surprised and pained.

The afternoon unravelled in gentle honesty, with a sunshine tap flowing to soothe in an exposé of bare all. Without remorse or judgement. Unconditionally loving. And wanting time to stop ticking to stay in that moment forever. Some things are so good, too good to imagine they can ever be repeated.

A good afternoon. The best. A sunshine tap to never turn off.

Take a breath, draw it in. Savour the deliciousness of milk and honey, strawberries and cream, the decadence of creamy risotto or buttery pastries filled with rich chocolate. Savour the tantalising of time standing still for a better than happy. The ardour in that internal place of home. Safety.

That’s the thing about love, no matter the flavour — its penchant for tenderness to release rippling revelations without end, to expose vulnerabilities in the barest of bare. There’s a nourishment that exists that feeds endlessly, even when malnourishment isn’t realised.

A dog barks, a gate rattles. A car nearby starts its engine.

My world is awakening. Time for me to wake too. To banana pancakes perhaps. Some yoga, and maybe more writing on my film script based on my Faraway land book.

It may be dark outside, but it’s never dark within when a sunshine tap of cherish flows.