Tea, My Liquid Rock

For some people is it mashed potatoes, for others mac and cheese, but my comfort food of choice is a cup of hot steaming tea. Blame my mother for this one. She greeted joy and grief with tea. Ditto for illness or celebration. It was an ordinary drink made extraordinary by the role it played in life's landmark moments.

I often awoke to hear the whistling teapot signaling the arrival of dawn. I don't remember ever leaving for school without at least one cup of tea and very often was sipping the second when the bus arrived. It was part of my waking ritual for years.

I didn't realize it at the time, but during those years I became quite the little tea connoisseur. I was constantly disappointed by the quality of tea in my college dormitory cafeteria. The water was never hot enough and the tea was never flavorful enough. I received more than one inquisitive look while steeping tea with the saucer on top of the cup. Making and drinking tea is an art and a ritual I turn to when faced with decisions and problems to solve.

On a chilly winter morning I love to cup the hot mug in both hands and inhale the rising steam as I sip the hot liquid. I do it instinctively, but it surely has aromatherapy benefits and the steam works to purge the overnight toxins from the skin. The tea bags are great to relieve tired and puffy eyes if my calendar requires an evening out after a long arduous day.

Today I found myself in need of a cup of tea. A friend is in the middle of a crisis, the real estate market mired deep in the doldrums and it seemed every phone call was a cry for help. From a house that won't sell to structural issues the situation cried out for tea.

I was calmed and comforted by the ritual. During those fifteen minutes of tea-triggered memories I felt a wave of serenity wash over me as I remembered a favorite verse.

This too shall pass.