Room Temperature

I like my water room temperature.

This is a strange quirk that has rattled the mind of every last ice-water drinking person I’ve dared to share this truth with.

I like my water room temperature.

Not over ice and not refrigerated.

Not cold but warm.

The dewy condensation that builds on a glass filled with cold water is not a sensation my hands long for.

The shock my lips feel when pressed to the frigid glass is not one of delight.

I imagine that ice-cold water coats my throat with a thin layer of ice as it goes down. Ice so thin that you could likely break through at the placement of a single toe.

I like my water room temperature.

It is a grounding experience — drinking water whose degree mirrors its environment, that is.

It is a gentle reminder of where I am.

I imagine that upon my first sip, a rush of relief washes over my body, whispering to itself: “Thank God I’m Still Here.”

A calm nudge letting me know that I haven’t gone anywhere.

Reassurance of my stability,

Constancy,

Substance.

— k. sona