I walk the length of the home from the study to the kitchen my eyes taking in the mound of clothes to be folded. I spy the book on the server desk and smile as I pass. Grating ginger over a pot of water yet to boil, the conversations in my head are ongoing.
Even as I finish grating and rinse the tiny grater under the steady stream of water pouring from the faucet, I notice that I am nodding my head in response to the dialog in my head. I pause, shake the excess water from the grater and leave it to dry. My attention is on the tea again, this time though, my thoughts are on something more immediate.
Like the steady stream of voices in my head. The thoughts that swirl and edge and mash into an orgy of sorts each day. Day in and day out. The chatter is non stop. They have taken the place of live company.
I strain the tea and watch the wisps of steam escape. Over the past year, my home has become my cocoon. A self-contained oasis. The entire world is a click away. I pick and choose my interactions knowing I can walk away at my will. The freedom is heady.
I stare into the distance, the honey colored tea somewhere in my peripheral vision. I sip and savor the brew and the joys of being at home. Alone.