A cup of tea is a cup of comfort for me.
Whenever I’m feeling sad, a cup of tea somehow makes it all better. Maybe it’s the warmth filling your chest, the place where your heart rests. Maybe it’s the aroma that brings back memories of your childhood. Maybe it’s the bitter-sweet taste upon your lips reminding you that though life may feel bitter at times, it is always followed by something sweet.
I was sitting here thinking as I often do and my thoughts were sad today. The origin of my sadness is not important, for we all feel sad at times.
I called a friend, she was unavailable. The television only provided depressing news stories so I turned it off. I tried cleaning (something that usually cheers me up) but it too didn’t help. As I started to leave the kitchen, I noticed my tea kettle, cold and unused, on the stove.
That’s when I realized what I needed: a cup of tea.
Just the act of filling the kettle with water, heating it on the stove, finding my “afternoon” tea cup, and opening a package of Earl Grey calmed me. Hearing the whistle and watching the steam rise from the cup as I poured the hot water-the tea ritual itself-calmed me even more. As the first sip worked its magic, my body miraculously healed.
My grandma introduced this magic to me when I was seven. She taught me the art of tea time. It was a time I looked forward to-a time for grandma and me to sit and talk while we enjoyed a batch of her freshly baked brownies alongside a cup of tea.
As a kid, while I preferred the brownies and special time with my grandma to the cup of tea, over the years the tea came to stand for something. It came to stand for comfort. It was a safe time. A peaceful time. A time to reflect on the events of the day and look forward to what the next day would bring.
Today, I remember why I love tea and I raise a cup to my grandma and the experience she introduced into my life.