Sugar

There are sounds we hear every day, that are part of our lives, but that we never stop to notice. It’s easy to write fifty words about the sound of rain on a roof, because the very word conjurs up images of cozy evenings, or mad dashes between awnings, or brightly colored umbrellas on parade.

But what about those other sounds? Who waxes lyrical about the sound of attic turbines, the steady hum of the refrigerator, the soft whirring of a computer fan?

Tonight as I was making tea, I paused for a moment, entranced by the soft sizzling hiss of the sugar spilling into the mug. It’s a unique sound – sugar falling into coffee doesn’t hiss, and the sugar substitutes that come in pink or blue packets don’t either, even in tea. I smiled to myself, thinking that this was a cool sound, planning research on whether or not there was a chemical reason for it.

But I didn’t research it. Instead, I stirred the sugar into my drink watching as the white granules dissolved into the hot brown liquid. I added a splash of milk, and I watched as it formed cloudy shapes before turning the entire contents of the mug a tawny brown color.

Hot water. Dried Leaves. Milk. Sugar.
A moment of peace and possibility in a ceramic mug of tea.

CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Sugar by Melissa Bartell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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