A warm bath
A slow song
Two drops of this
A dash of that.
There is a sweetness to this solitude, this very space of lack. The room is filled with all that is not there, no rush, no expectations, no need, no want, no getting in another's way, no phone ringing, no mail in the box. I realize the beauty of no.
Yes, there is a guitar playing, a rush of water, the diminished flames of wicks and wax well used, the scent of lavender and vanilla and melon, a creaking wood floor, a warm towel from the dryer, the feel of steam and lotion, a book waiting to be read. It is clean and nurturing and it feels like saying yes to yourself.
Sweet, sweet cave. Oh how I love you so.