Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

I spent the weekend listening to 70’s music, reading and sipping hot toddies. I’ve had a nasty head cold for two days. Nothing serious, just the kind that every time I’m about to sneeze, my right eye, and my nose, begin gushing. Mrs. E, the loveliest of ladies at 7-11, insisted I take two packets of tea, one peppermint and one citrus, and told me to “pooot a leetle whiskey een it.” “You will breathe so goood, and sleep, oh, you weel sleeep.”
I thanked her for the tea and walked the extra block to Marcyzk in search of mini-bottles of whiskey. Luckily its a fine wine store, so their selection of whiskey was limited to two, which is good because I have no knowledge of whiskey, so I had no way of knowing if I were buying a bad whiskey or a good whiskey. Of the two choices I recognized one I’d enjoyed before, in the office of an editor. I grabbed two bottles and tossed them in my Norman Rockwell print, re-usable bag.
I do not care for the taste of whiskey, no matter how hard I try to mask it I can still taste it. But I did manage to get one half of one of the mini-bottles down, along with several cups of tea, throughout the weekend.
As I was lying on the floor of my little apartment, feeling warm and fuzzy, I looked around and realized that I have done a fine job setting up my little home here. My home, and my heart, are full. Everything in my apartment reminds me of someone I love—Jessica hates chickens, so every time I look at the chicken pictures in my kitchen I can’t help but think of her and smile as I remember her freaking out about chickens. I have two travel mugs, one blue and one red, which reminds me of my parents. Each day I pour my coffee into one of the mugs, and think of them every time I sip from it.
All of my loved ones are here, and, at this moment, I can’t help but wonder what it is I’ve been running from. Or to. I’ve always assumed I was running toward something, and in doing so have always been rewarded with wonderful adventures. But maybe this is someplace I could stay and enjoy for a while. Perhaps I’ve found a home.

January 26, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized

1 Comment »

  1. Well Dorothy, it looks like your little red shoes paid off afterall. Welcome home, it is where the heart is.

    Comment by G-Dog | January 27, 2012 | Reply

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