Note to reader: The Japanese Tea ceremony depicted here is far from accurate. A few small details within the text hint at this.
Thank you goes out to Shadows, Lady Kouka, and Lady Jalina
Butterflies fluttered around her heart. The light broth she ate for lunch hovered in the back of her throat. She trained and prepared for over a year just for this moment. Pulling the silk Kimono's white sash tight around her thick waist, she pondered the path that brought her here.
Two years after graduating Magna Cum Lauda from a prestigious Ivy League college, she found herself on the fast track to a large corner office. Why in the world did she need this? What need forced her to seek Him out? The dichotomy of her soul reflected the dichotomy of her plump body.
Although her rounded face attested to her ancestry, two generations in America blanked out all cultural ties to her family's homeland. The blood that connected her to one of the oldest cultures on Earth had thinned. Perhaps she chose debut with this particular ceremony because it was as close to her heritage as she could find. Granted a Japanese tea ceremony performed by an American of peasant Chinese stock is ironic, but she enjoyed the beauty of it. Closing her eyes, she hoped that He would like it as well.
Running her to-do list through her head, she meticulously checked each item. The water remained warm in a cast iron kettle. Her implements nestled in a silk napkin chosen to compliment the pale blue and white of her garb. The lute played on repeat in His CD player.
Carefully inhaling deeply through her nose, she closed her eyes and envisioned the flowing silk trailing behind her as she entered. Exhaling slowly through her mouth as He taught, she banished the nervousness, centered her thoughts, and focused on the impending task.
Before walking down the long corridor that led to the patio, she banged a large gong. Once, the deep sound reverberated to warn the spirits of her entrance. Twice, the mischievous spirits fled from the sound felt in the sternum. Three, she couldn't remember what the third gong was for, but reverently, she followed the script.
Walking to the open French doors, her Kimono flowed behind her and made the painted waterfalls adorning her move and drift into the early twilight. Inhaling deeply again, she focused on her task. Knowing that He sat there, waitinf for her, nearly overwhelmed her. She repeated her lessons of the previous year. Breathing deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth, she envisioned herself as the river she wore. She traveled the path that He the bedrock of the Earth laid for her; she altered the shape of the stones as the stones directed her course.
