There are few things in life that are as comforting and soothing as a hot cup of tea. When I am lonely, when I am sick, when I am feeling creative and especially when I am bonding with the women in my family; it is usually over a hot cup of tea. Sunday afternoons in the summer or blustery winter’s evenings, tea seems to be the unchanged constant in the most intimate conversations of my life.
My tastes have changed over the years and growing up in a tea drinking household the flavors have grown with me. As a child listening to my mother, aunts and grandmother talk at the dining room table I had my own lukewarm cup of raspberry herbal tea. I would sip at poignant breaks in the conversation, raising my pinky for effect. This was my time to be among women and learn the art of and joy in sharing yourself and learning the familial history that is the story of my own life’s journey. Sitting in the dining room chairs my patent leather shoes dangling a few inches above the floor, I felt like a grown up and like I had become a part of some secret society. A world I had not known before was opened up to me as the matriarchs of my family smiled down at what could only be described as tepid sugar water but I drank that raspberry tea as if it were nectar from the gods.
As I grew into a young woman still living at home I graduated to Earl Grey to prove I could drink the strong brew that everyone else enjoyed. I of course still filled half the cup with sugar and lemon juice. It was only after I realized the difference between my mother’s taste in tea and my Grandmothers that I began to develop my own tea preferences. My mother will allow the bag to sit in the pot until the water is cold. My grandmother dips the bag in twice and puts it to the side as she prefers a lighter tea. I have learned that I prefer the tea my grandmother’s way. But had I never met such selective connoisseurs, I might be one of those American women who does not know the difference between strong or weak tea.
I left for college and studied abroad in Italy. During my adventures my family always made sure to send me a little box of tea in every care package. The flavor reminded me of home and helped keep me awake when I studied, calmed my nerves after a long day and let me know I was loved by a family that was physically far away but no further than a hot cup of tea. While traveling in Ireland, I shared a hot cup of tea with my best friend. In front of a roaring fire in her flat we made plans for our future. Tea cups warming our chilly hands we discussed our hopes and our dreams for the lives we would lead. We stayed up all night talking and sharing our most intimate thoughts sipping tea and imagining what excitement was next in store for us.
Throughout my life, tea has not only been the marker of a good conversation or the beginning of a never ending card game, it has become synonymous with the passage of time, the sharing of traditions and moments of personal growth and revelation. When a woman in my family puts the kettle on and sits down to talk, you know she means business. And when someone says they don’t have a minute for even one cup of tea, you know something’s going on. Some people read their fortunes in the tea leaves at the bottom of their mug. My great fortune is in the women I drink my tea with. As the years pass and conversation ebbs and flows, I learn more about them as people and through their wisdom, more about myself and the woman I would like to become. Sharing a cup of tea is our tradition, it is our ritual and it is a gift I share with my female friends, family and someday my children.
