Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for this opportunity to participate in Slice of Life!
In elementary school, a friend and I set dates for after-school tea and cookies. Sharing our return bus ride stirred anticipation of confidences disclosed over Earl Gray and the aptly named Constant Comment. We grieved my grandmothers' deaths over tea, its aroma like incense. The bitter essence of leaves, the sweet fragrance of dried fruit and flowers, fills conversational pauses and stimulates reflection. As the leaves brew, thoughts acquire their own potency and flavor, ripening to savor in conversation.
I have a tea date today. A close friend and colleague, she is leaving our school this year. I will miss seeing her in the hallways and
mail room, the surprise notes and gifts left on my desk.
But our meeting is a hopeful reminder of a friendship that
has extended beyond the context of work. And however anachronistic it might
seem, this is not my first friendship that has been nurtured, in part, through
the ritual of tea.
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| Mary Cassat: Afternoon Tea Party |
In elementary school, a friend and I set dates for after-school tea and cookies. Sharing our return bus ride stirred anticipation of confidences disclosed over Earl Gray and the aptly named Constant Comment. We grieved my grandmothers' deaths over tea, its aroma like incense. The bitter essence of leaves, the sweet fragrance of dried fruit and flowers, fills conversational pauses and stimulates reflection. As the leaves brew, thoughts acquire their own potency and flavor, ripening to savor in conversation.
My first, somewhat tumultuous year of teaching, I discovered a tea shop close
to home. Stuffed with impossibly aromatic leaves, it quickly became a haven for me. Possibly a heaven--a gracious, meditative answer to the neighborhood sports bar. I mourned its eventual closing, but spaces like this endure, as do occasions for tea.
