I come from a family of tea drinkers. It’s part of my Canadian heritage. After I outgrew mother’s milk, I’m pretty sure I moved right into tea with milk and sugar. It was the cure for what ailed you, body or spirit. My grandmother could read your future in the tea leaves and it was family tradition to slurp up any patch of bubbles in the cup before they broke apart or hit the side to “get the money”. When I grew older I tried to move on to coffee because, frankly, it was way more cool. I never acquired the coffee taste.
There are so many lovely rituals around tea – tea parties, tea ceremonies, and afternoon tea time, but my all time very favorite is hunkering down in a cozy corner and spending time with a cup of tea, a sweet treat and a good friend. Time slows. Conversation flows. And without exception I am renewed and restored at the end of our visit. I had the pleasure of sharing a cuppa with a truly beautiful and brilliant woman this afternoon. We get together about once a year for tea and a chat. We don’t see each other in between or communicate beyond the odd Facebook siting but, like magic, while the tea is steeping in the pot, we begin to chat and it is just so darned comfortable. I’m convinced that the ritual of sitting and sipping allows each of us to slip into our mental robe and slippers, put our metaphorical feet up and let our worldly mask drop. Tea conversations always wander all over the map – kids, jobs, parents, successes, failures, upcoming adventures – the list is endless and it is lovely. Bonds are forged, efforts cheered and sometimes tears are shed along with the laughter. I am grateful to have shared so many special moments with dear friends over a cup of tea.