a moment in the day: tea

I’m walking back from the break room at work, cup of freshly-reheated green tea in one hand, the little paper tag on the end of the tea bag fluttering. 

Now the air takes the paper tag and lifts it, flips it so that it lands on my hand in that place between my thumb and first finger. 

The tag, landing, feels, for a half second, like when my Chihuahua Nicholas is sitting on my lap at home, me at the computer, and he decides to rest his chin on my hand while I’m trying to type. 

Walking with my tea, I get the tiniest little happy that travels from my hand, up my arm, to my heart. 

It’s such an ordinary moment, the tea bag tag fluttering up and landing on my hand. And it happens all the time. 

And every time. Every time. I feel Nicholas’ chin.