Peace and Passion

* The following content warnings may contain SPOILERS. Trigger warnings: sensitive issues such as depression, trauma, violence, and suicide. *

Thunder rumbled in the distance causing her body to go rigid. Having paused in the middle of wiping down the kitchen counter, as her petite hand trembled upon the stained dishrag, Eleanor peered out the small window leading toward the backyard. Among the endlessness of the cornfield, was the blue sky, once painted with white puffy clouds, slowly transitioning into a gray dreariness.  

“It's time,” she whispered as she took a calming breath, “it’s time to make my tea and join Eddie.”  

She hastily finished her task, heart beating like a drum. She placed the dishrag on the sink and took one more look around her cozy kitchen. A wave of pride and wistfulness overcame her, satisfied that her tasks were finished, just in time for the storm.  

“The weather channel said it’s supposed to be a doozy,” she voiced aloud as she filled the tea kettle with water, setting it on the gas stove and turning the dial. While awaiting for the water to boil, she ambled toward her collection.  

Which one shall we go with? she pondered.  

She bit her bottom lip as she sifted through the bamboo tea box that housed their assorted teas. Tears sprang to her eyes as she decided on loose chamomile and lavender leaves, Eddie’s favorite. She delicately combined the flavors into a drawstring tea bag. She then hesitated for a moment as she gazed upon the homemade honey mixture that she prepared the day before.   

“It’s okay, Elly,” she encouraged herself.   

With shaking hands, she drizzled the concoction onto the bottom of her favorite mug and then placed the tea bag inside. The yellow ‘World’s Best Wife’ mug made a wonderful distraction as she reflected on last year’s anniversary gift from Eddie. She couldn’t believe that it had been over 50 years; they had been through so much together.  

Being neighbors and best friends for all their lives, Eddie and Eleanor had fallen in love early in their teenage years. Their first date was simple: drinking hot tea on his porch, a tradition they carried on all throughout their marriage. They had eloped when they were 18 years old. They faced much adversary with being a young, and what some considered, interracial couple at the time (with her as a fair Scandanavian blonde and he as a bronze raven-haired Italian). With twinkling eyes, a mischievous smile came upon her face at the memories, and she was surprised that even now her cheeks flushed with heat. The fire between the two would have undoubtedly resulted in many children; but alas, it was not in the cards for them. After years of trying, thoughts of being parents dissipated. It didn’t take the pair long to accept this fate, and acceptance ultimately transformed into bliss as they lived a peaceful and loving life together. These days, she couldn’t imagine their life being any different.  

A piercing scream brought her back from her reverie with a start. Turning around quickly, she identified the screeching perpetrator- the tea kettle. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she headed toward it to switch the dial off, shaking her head.   

“You can’t accomplish this task if you’re going to be a scaredy cat,” she admonished herself. She poured the boiling water over the tea bag and watched as the gold and lavender shades swirled together in harmony. Suddenly, a gloominess consumed the kitchen and she surveyed the swarm of dark clouds taking over the sky just beyond the view of the window.   

She then took the mug in between both hands and felt the heat radiating. She closed her eyes as the warmth seized her hands and made its way up her arms, engrossing her. The chamomile and lavender aroma prompted an amazing calm to settle upon her; however, the notion quickly dissipated as the sweet honey blend, though barely discernable, roused a disturbance to the peace.  

“None of that,” she stated aloud as she opened her eyes. “Oh!”   

The kitchen was now plunged in darkness. The flashing lightning, transpiring quicker and quicker, was the only source of light. Its accompanying thunder growled vigorously, provoking the house to shudder like a frightened animal.  

With a deep breath, Eleanor strolled tentatively to the back door and stepped out. She closed the door behind her, thankful that the screened-in porch provided some protection as she beheld the storm before her. She stood in awe at its ferocity. The wind flew around her as the corn stalks whipped about violently. The lightning bolts so bright that they illuminated the entire sky, allowing for clear visibility in those quick moments. The magnificent thunder sounded like giants colliding with one another. She found the violent storm to be strikingly beautiful.  

She meandered to her white rocking Adirondack chair that sat adjacent to Eddie’s. She sat down gingerly, absorbing the surrounding energy, overwhelmed with nostalgia as the passionate storm combined with the soothing aroma of chamomile and lavender was a distinct resemblance to their marriage.  

Peace and passion, she mused. 

The surrounding tempest carried on as she gazed upon it from her front row seat. The rain, which had finally caught up to the thunder, lightning, and wind, began beating down in swills. She felt an intense thrill as if she were watching a storm for the very first time. Her thoughts and emotions were caught in a whirlwind. She was surprised to find her serenity transforming into exuberance, her trepidation turning into exhilaration, her sorrow giving in to rapture. 

As the storm raged on, she looked toward destiny, resting in her hands. She realized that the tea had cooled down now, enough for her to drink swiftly. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath. Holding on to the mug with all her courage, not allowing herself to think, she brought it to her lips and gulped down the contents, leaving only the remnants of the tea bag. The luke-warm liquid went down easily, the honey blend coating her throat. 

At length, her head gently leaned against the chair as her eyes closed and the mug fell from her hands to the porch’s wooden floor, its shattering concealed by the storm’s cacophony. Eleanor finally joined Eddie.