Gaining Ground

Another early day with much in the way of plans. Good things are in the works. A twelve pound pork shoulder is slowly cooking away in the oven at a tender 275F, laid in a shallow sea of apple cider vinegar, rubbed in a glorious trifecta of sage, salt and cumin. Drizzled with a little honey and massaged in sweet cream butter, it will slowly roast until the meat slides seductively off the bone. Floating in the apple cider vinegar is a small bouquet of peppers, to add just a little heat. Chamomile tea steeping in the big pot, soon to be a pitcher of slightly sweetened herbal tea. I complete a couple quests in Dragon Age II while the household is still asleep, allow myself the small indulgence if visual entertainment before shutting down the console and heading back into the kitchen. The tea has scented the middle floor of the house in the cozy, warm note of chamomile flowers. It is a smell I will always associate with comfort, well weathered and beloved old mugs, Kieran Rose and Angela. It was Angela's favorite tea, with lemon-ginger coming in a close second. So much so that in her favorite mug, which sits right by her urn, I slipped a Cozy Chamomile tea packet into the bottom of the cup.

It is the little things we remember to do that bring us the most healing and closure. 

It is a beautiful day today. The sky is nearly clear, a sharp blue only occasionally dotted with puffy clouds. I am catching the notes of recently cut grass, wood smoke and Autumn blooming flowers from the open window. To my right, the mouth watering smell of the roasting pork greets me. The small pockets of spice intermingled with the scent of warm honey and powdered sage. In breath in deep and cannot help but smile. 


It is a start.

Slowly, I am finding my footing back to joy. I noticed it when I could walk away from a moment anger without losing my control. I noticed it when I employed mercy instead of ruin, even when ruin could be justified, if not just. I am sleeping better, breathing easier and I can smile without feeling forced.  

Slowly, I feel the river bed rise to meet my feet.

Slowly, I start to gain ground.