The Gaze of your Chamomile Hug

You lounged in the sun driven haze, as the petals lingered on my taste buds. Our mid-air thoughts were gently pressed against each other. The air conversed the unsaid words we thought whilst drinking tea. The wind pressed the pieces of your hair, as I floated in the direction of my mind. I was busy concentrating on the intensity of this moment. Because I knew, when the petals started floating in the air, I wanted to speak to you. You gazed at the edges of my face. I felt your stare and so I shyly looked down at my cup.

The tea spilled ever so softly from my cup. Half of it flew flourishingly into the ground below the chamomile bushes. The remaining liquid splashed all over my mouth. The drops of tea meandered down to the tip of my chin. You noticed that my tea drinking was not smooth sailing. I tried playing it cool. I tried wiping it all away with the sleeve of my jumper. The atmosphere seems real, and memorable and entirely up to us. To be honest the intensity felt like I was breathing in your humbleness. Which was unexplainable. You knew the sudden sadness in my eyes before I even gazed. I was struggling with a tear zig zagging down my jawbone. There were words unspoken. The tear glided into my cup. It splashed with your words uttering, “Is everything okay?”. The mood was a saddened state of peace.

Our sandals briefly touched together. I gazed over and whispered, “I know that you love me sentimentally, unconditionally and unreservedly”. It was a mouthful of words. These words softly improve the thoughts of my mind. I remember you glancing, almost as if your eyes were dancing. You gazed at my tea and blissfully back towards my face. I realised I really had longed to open up.  My mind was hollow from the depths of not being felt. The chamomile stems crept up towards our little toes. And I remember smiling as you peacefully swayed.

You delicately detected my awareness. We became slightly distant in this moment as I tried to make sense of how I felt. My eyes were trying to glow and sparkle. I was trying to be the ideas, that made me, me. I desired momentum and forward thinking and rationality and logic and sensibility with the words I uttered. The tea tasted sweet with the droplets of honey dissipating at the bottom of my teacup. You were halfway through your cup and I had nearly finished. I wondered how sweet your chamomile tea tasted. I wondered if you knew how sweet I thought you were. I started to speak, “I believe you make sense. You believe in my sorrow and acceptance and ability. And you make sense of everything, literally everything”. I remember at this point I had started silently sobbing. It just came over me. My chamomile-stained jumper was soaked with brewed liquid and now soft tears. In sobs and snuffles, you put your teacup to one side and moved closer.

The chamomile tea was pouring out my feelings. The tea made time stand still. You inhaled the aroma that allowed me to think. You watched me as my inner mind exploded. I had found abundance in the petals that you had placed in my hair. The chamomile meadow and its scented fragrance loomed in every thought in my mind. There was beauty in every tea stem. Everything was so charming and luminously in harmony. Seeing this made me start to think again of us. My mind was looping as my stares into the world became increasingly too surreal. I started mumbling towards you. “I’m surrounded by this liquid, this chamomile liquid. Its flowing through every inch of my body. And now I want a wealth of feelings, concrete judgements and to be my own strength. But for so long I’ve been trying to understand details. For so damn long”. I paused out of breath, before finishing. “Do you know how much I want to gather you up and finally know what you are thinking of me? ”. The statement felt like a grand sip I hadn’t even fully considered sipping. You looked down at your cup. I saw you hesitate on whether to take another sip. I realised your recognition of me and your tenderness. You were always thinking intently of what to say.

 We both stared at our teacups. I suddenly realised I couldn’t redo anything I had said. There was no one left to understand or comfort me. My sadness had become never ending and fatiguing.  I could only try make sense of what you already knew about me. Truthfully, I wanted to know if you were okay being there with me. I took a sip quietly and you had relaxed your shoulders. You watched my mind go deep into the depths of my unconventional imagination. It was silent for a while. I broke our silence with an acknowledgement of you. “You are the only person here, sitting with me. You are the only one who appreciates why I drink chamomile tea. You love that I drink tea. It doesn’t silly but it is a miracle!” Your atmosphere was flavoursome and my sad thoughts seemed flavourless. The potential feeling of us was calming. My eyes were wide at this stage. With my hands gesturing all over the place.  The scenery and chamomile were truly beautiful. The golden chamomile scented leaves and your coziness appeared like heaven.

You noticed me being self-conscious.  My movements started feeling small and big at the same time. I felt like hiding away in your chest. Instead I covered myself away from you for a moment. My sips of Chamomile tea grew lesser. I wanted to savour each drop. I was fearful of what would happen next. My eyes had become swollen. My gaze had become fragments of memories of when I felt comfort. Before we drank our chamomile tea, I strolled with you amongst the bushes. You had put a few chamomile flowers in my braids. You watched me as I recalled a funny memory. My face had become that of a child. Giggling and strolling and we listened to one another. You rambled on and glowed. I too glowed and rambled.

Before sipping it felt like an eternity of our warm embrace. I wanted to be delicate and unaware of life. Before we sat down, I was a soft grin. You sipped and then I sipped. Like two kids, being given a hot beverage on a hot day. It didn’t make sense, but we did it anyway. Intently and full of motion we sat there together. We looked towards the scenery, the growth and abundance of it all. The hugeness of this nature was so clear, and my thoughts were full of speech. “We don’t know what the other is thinking. The cups are cold. I feel iced all over. I am pondering the safety of my mind. My eye fragments are lost. I am worried that my fragments can’t be put back together”. The breeze washes past our faces and changes our progression of thoughts. Your eyes always told a story of being strong.

With kindness in your chamomile radiant eyes you said “we are always lost, so lost together”. You moved your teacup in front of us both. It clinked on the ground right next to our touching toes. Its cold and I noticed you hadn’t finished it yet. I wanted instantly for our teacups to still be filled. You then sat up tall and said to me, “We are wanting to be viewed together, by this big earth. Sitting here isn’t just about this tea. Its about us”. I wanted to believe everything you said fully. I was always fluttering in between anxiety and sanity, feeling misplaced, and filled with relief. And you knew this about me. “The white rings of my eyes send a haze to my gaze sometimes.” I said. “Because I am reflecting on all my sadness. You never get to see what’s on my mind. I just try to recall our happy stories. I always hope you know me. I hope you know that I love you. I always hope you want to keep knowing me”.

Our chamomile tea cups now sat beside one another. It’s as if drinking them never even happened.  We are experiencing everything and nothing together. You looked at me as if you were never afraid of looking away. I always wanted to keep staring at your comforting expression. There was always hope in not knowing what was on your mind. You always were hopeful for me. I fully believed there was courage in talking and pausing and breathing with one another.  “You are all I have” I remember saying to you. And you joked with me, “Besides this tea?”. And I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes.. and you are absolutely better than this tea!”.  I felt as if I was pouring my soul into my cup and your cup. And you poured your love fixing my liquid eyes.

I’ve just been so alone, I thought. Other people hide away from my feared eyes. The chamomile flowers waving hello, ever so gently. Your smile was gentle. The breeze encouraged us to stand up. It overcame us as a subtle, all-encompassing thrill. I threw out your half cup of cold chamomile tea. The liquid went straight back into the chamomile roots. You stood up and took my hands. Without saying a word, you held my hands so tight. You saw that I was tired from all my thoughts. And then without a doubt, you hugged me so tight.  Your shoulders and chest squished us together. I didn’t say a word. I was drained and you held my stature. I will never forget the whisper from your heart to my ear. “You are with me. I feel your soul against mine. We are okay. You are my abundance of chamomile tea. You are everything that fills me up”.