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