Find yourself a cup
This week feels like a good week to sit quietly and have a tea break.
When I was young, I spent quite a lot of time with my grandparents. Sometimes my whole family lived with them for a bit because we didn’t have our own place to live. Sometimes my brother and I were there for babysitting purposes while my parents worked.
My maternal grandmother—my mother’s mother—was a strong believer in strong tea. Her own maternal grandmother had immigrated to the United States from the north of England when my great-grandmother was a young girl.
My grandmother had spend a lot of time with her English granny, and with her own mother, both of whom believed in the restorative power of tea.
Having a rough day? A cup of tea will smooth things over. Having a good day? A cup of tea will help you enjoy it more. Feeling sad? It will perk you up. Feeling euphoric? It will calm you down. Have a headache? Tea. Have a stomach issue? Tea.
Too cold? Have some tea. Too hot? Have some tea—you’ll feel cooler after you drink it.
“Find yourself a cup; the teapot is behind you. Now tell me about hundreds of things. ”
My grandmother brewed strong tea, then added milk and sugar. Oftentimes, we had a cookie or a Tastykake to go along with it. Sometimes we sat and talked; sometimes we sat in companionable silence.
This remained true as I moved from childhood to teenager to adult. I was fortunate enough to have her in my life until I was grown and had children of my own. I think of her each time I fix myself a cup of tea, which is usually more than once a day.
Even now, for me, tea is the answer, particularly when I am feeling stressed or sad or out of sorts.
Friends, that’s been me for the past week or so. The news of the world has brought me down.
Last week was a difficult one for multiple reasons, including the mass shooting in Atlanta based in misogyny and (likely) white supremacy. Then there are the protests in the UK after a woman was murdered. Protests in Australia, too.
Here it is, Women’s History Month, and we are reminded that it is still difficult and dangerous—even deadly—to be a woman.
Rather than pushing past it—or pushing at all—I find myself wanting to pause. To sit with those feelings of grief and despair. To consider what I may want to do next.
So if you would like to join me, I’ll be here with a pot of tea at the ready. Probably my favorite Harney & Sons tea, which is called Victorian London Fog.
Pour yourself a cup, and tell me hundreds of things.
