Perhaps get home early, while the snow was still falling and build a quick fire in the grill, wondering at the weirdness of the flakes hissing on the hot bars above the fire, wondering who in the hell would be outside grilling at this point of an afternoon...but knowing that if I could re-create a summer's day for you, with your favorite food, that is what I would do...
I would make you salsa, using the smaller plum tomatoes, the variety of bell peppers (in sun-yellows and bright-oranges), maybe a habanero for even extra heat but of course the smattering of jalapenos...rough chopped, not blended...onion and garlic, fresh-squeezed lime...expensive salty chips and a drink to soothe, maybe something ice cold.
I'd remove the meat from the grill, smoked with a hint of mesquite, covered in a dry rub that inked black in parallel lines...I'd add this to a low heat in a pan, already in a sauce of mole and garlic; I'd sear a dried Anaheim pepper til it also blackened then crush it in a molcajete, spreading the powder and flakes into the sauce. Working with my hands to control the heat and the temperature...an easy task, one that I have done many times before...glancing at the clock to determine when you'd arrive.
The snow was still spitting, a very wet and rain-like white, so I grabbed a towel that was white and fluffy, stolen from a spa and put it near the door to wait your entrance. That would be easy. I'd put an old carwash towel on the floor to wipe your feet...
The scent of cooking would fill the air, the spice and scent of food in preparation for you would contain a sense of heat, a delicate heat that would infuse your mouth...and since you likely skipped lunch you'd be ravenous...thus the salsa to take off the edge. Give your mouth that first warmth as your hair dripped slightly with bits of melting snow. I could do that...
I might even have some guitar music on, perhaps even with a slightly mexican beat...but slow...not fast...you've been driving in hellacious traffic, dealing with idiots, ignoring the prettiness of the snow by dealing with the pettiness of driving...you might be tired, restless...surprised that I am home first...and being greeted by the warm kitchen...so the first sounds would need to be soothing, to bring your mind down from its claws on the wall and fall gently back into place.
Putting a CD in the system could be easy. I could do that....
I'd draw you a bath but I don't know when you'll be home...I don't know when you'll finish dinner. But what I will do is put the soaps near the ledge, get another stolen spa towel from the closet, grab your iPod from the drawer and get a cup to put it in (it reflects the sound) and move them near the tub. I don't know if I'd put out any pajama bottoms or anything...haven't thought that far ahead.
Maybe, just maybe I'd burrow into the drawers and find the jasmine incense...maybe I could start burning some now...moving from the scent of the cooking to the scent of the soothing...maybe I could do that...
Candles...yeah, I could find the tealight ones and light a bunch of them...I'd worry a tad about looking like a sanctuary...so maybe a tasteful one or two or four...random. (I'd think about the randomness of when I see you, and the tiny tealight candles you light when that happens...and it's not a roaring row of thousands but rather one or two or four...just enough to illuminate what you do to me...)
I could do that, with the tealight candles.
And then I'd sit...cocktail in hand. I'd wait for you to come back into my view, to let my eyes fall upon you and I wondered if I'd see a scowl or a smile or a tight-knit grin...and I likely wouldn't say anything at all...I'd hope you'd notice the towel, notice the scents, notice the sounds, and maybe you'd sense the collision of all these combinations and as your mind absorbed them I'd hope that you'd notice that they were done by me.
And you'd know what I could do.
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