twice-steeped tea
the theme of the week is water. the heat is picking up and so are the storms. i'm used to wet seasons, though. humidity is a comfort. i am more hydrated during a storm than i am under a sweltering blue sky. i crave hot drinks more often in the summer and iced drinks in the winter.
i went to the desert last summer and the dry-hot was both exhilarating and foreign. the absence of water makes me curious. i sought its whispers in the hot winds. i went to the midwest last fall and walked through dry-cold. snow is just quiet rain. before i knew it, my hair was wetter than cloudburst could ever dream of. what a trickster!
water was my first home. being cradled in the sea feels most natural. i garnish the waves with my trust-fall pose. my hair's texture is different underwater. it turns into silken algae that i can touch and perceive vaguely with goggles, as long as i can hold my breath. i'll never have my hair in this state on the surface, much like how i can never hold my reflection's hand. i understand why the little mermaid was homesick. swimming pools feel too insistent after my finger pads turn into raisins. it's the same with bathtubs. they will do, for now, until i can feel the shore in my toes once more.
sometimes, i steep the same tea leaves twice. i could very much brew another bundle of leaves to mimic the spice of first-steeped tea. yet, it's not about recreation when i do steep the leaves twice. i could be low in stock, or it could be for a reason as compelling as "again! again!" while my kettle is still hot. there's something about the smoothness of twice-steeped tea is very grounding to me. i sip more intently. this is probably what flowers feel when it rains.