The first thing that comes to my mind when I think tea, is being little and having my first sips of tea at a Chinese restaurant. The steaming silver pot... the little porcelain cups, just the right size for my little hands... and a couple of packets of sugar. Going to the restaurant was a treat in itself, and having grown-up tea just added to the pleasure. When Carie introduced to me chai tea last spring, I would occasionally brew a cup at home, loving the spicy flavors... but I just can't make it as good as Panera can, and so on most days, coffee easily wins. But on my little trip back to Scituate in December, I became a tea girl. Amy would put the kettle on and soon, we would be enjoying steaming mugs of hot sweet tea on a cold wintery night... or afternoon. Tea in the morning is just something hot to warm and wake you... but sitting down with a friend and chatting over a cup of tea in the afternoon... or settling down at the end of a brisk day, mulling over the events of the day with a hot cup of tea and a friend... those moments make memories. Lively conversation... reminiscing and giggling... sharing heart to heart... over a cup of tea. When I walk in the door from work, I find myself putting the kettle on. And when I do, my thoughts find their way back to Amy's cottage kitchen, and our tea time. And wrapping my hands around the steaming mug of hot, sweet, spicy tea is a warm reminder of our winter weekend, and most of all our long wonderful friendship... which I would not trade for all of the tea in China.
A good friend is a connection to life,
a tie to the past, a road to the future,
the key to sanity in a totally insane world.