alisonnissen

The crisp fall air lingers on my lips as I calmly whisper, “Shhhh.”

I am enjoying a cool Florida morning on the screened-in lanai with my eyes closed to block the glare from the morning sun. I am also hiding from the voice in the kitchen just beyond the open sliding door; the one on repeat.

“Mom. Mom. Mom…”

“Shhhh.” Sinking into the chaise lounge, I allow my hands to compress around the hot mug. Fronds from the palm trees at my fence line sway and tickle their leaves against the top of pool cage. My mind drifts with the breeze.

“But Mom,” the voice continues.

“Mmmm, I’m not listening,” I tell him as I raise the mug closer to my nose. The fragrant bouquet of rich nutty spices carries my muse to Fiji or Tahiti or Bora Bora where she sits on a secluded beach with a tall, dark, handsome billionaire.

“Mom, this is important.”

I relax into the pleasure of my fantasy. Niko hands my muse a cup of coffee while she gazes into his chocolate eyes.

“Mom, this is really important.”

“Ahhhh, so is this,” I say in a soft, yogi chant. The warmth of the cup slowly spreads from my fingertips, through my arms, and into my core. My senses are enlivened. This is my pre-sip ritual. I hang onto this moment for another three seconds, fully raise the cup to my lips, burn the crap out of my tongue, break my tranquility, and return to reality.

“Shhhuger,” I say as I spray hot liquid from my mouth onto my white, cottony robe.

I open my eyes and focus on the bed-head, snaggled-tooth, half-dressed man-boy now in front of me.

“Mom,” he says as his voice crackles between octaves.

“Yes?” I purse my lips while trying to feign a smile.

“When’s breakfast?”