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I look forward to my coffee in the morning. I admittedly still hit snooze for usually an hour, but the only thing that truly gets my ass out of bed is knowing I can have a cup of coffee. It wasn’t always this way, as I loved the smell, but I couldn’t stand the taste. I used to have coffee envy; driving to work in the morning and seeing fellow commuters in their car with their travel mug filled with coffee, made me envious. Coffee is one of those things that people long for, can’t wait for, can’t function without. It wakes them up, puts them in check, gets things started for them. I wanted to be a part of that world.

My world, up to this point, revolved around tea. I grew up with it, and was surrounded by it. Every woman in my family drank tea as if it were water. Every day, all day. When they wanted to relax, when they wanted to talk, when they wanted to decompress they had tea. When they were thirsty, they did not grab a glass of water, they made a cup of tea. I even remember drinking a very milky, watered down tea in my bottle as I laid down on the floor watching late morning cartoons. Tea was more than a caffeinated beverage. It meant something to my family. It was a symbol of our connection. Nine out of 10 times when I walked into my grandparents house,  my grandfather would be sitting at the kitchen window with a cup of tea in front of him. Before I could shut the door behind me, he would already be up to put the water on for me. When my Nana would play poker with my sister and me, she would hide good cards under the table with one hand, while holding a cup of tea with the other. When we would go through her tins of jewelry with hopes she would let us take a piece home, we had a cup of tea. When my aunt would come for a visit and we would sit around the table doodling on random scraps of paper, we had a cup of tea. When me and my sisters needed to talk or wanted some company, we would have a cup of tea.

After dinner we would clean up and have a cup of tea. Putting the water on was exciting, similar to the way people get excited about putting the game on. When we were all living at home, we would get into our pajamas and have a cup of tea in the kitchen when the house had gotten quiet. Dad had gone to bed, and mom would be in the living room falling asleep to the tv. It was without exaggeration, our favorite activity.  When our favorite tv shows were on we would get in our comfy clothes, and put the water on. We had it timed perfectly so we were all sitting on the couch with tea in hand when the show started. Sometimes I would drink tea because I just had nothing else to do, or because I was hungry but couldn’t decide what I wanted, When a sister said, “do you want a cup of tea?”, it meant so much more. It meant do you want to talk? Do you want to be by my side? It meant we were sharing this life together. It was a good moment in a life that was filled with many bad ones. It was a saving grace. It was a comfort like no other. That cup of tea had healing power. The space  between the first dip of the tea bag and the last sip was untouchable. It was safe, it was quiet, it was laughter, and it was tears. Sometimes it was silent, and sometimes it was non stop chatter. Sometimes it was sharing a happy story, and sometimes it was wallowing in depression. That cup of tea was the only constant. It was there to celebrate birthdays and aid in the devastation of losing a grandparent. It made life more livable. 

Now that I am older, life and tea have changed a little. I no longer live with my sisters, for one, and I have become the coffee loving adult I always wanted to be.  Life is funny the way all the little things you once enjoyed are either gone, or enjoyed differently. Everything takes on a new meaning. I still enjoy a cup of tea when I visit with my sisters, but it isn’t as frequent. There are so many more facets of life that just weren’t there before. My sisters are no longer the only shoulders I have to lean on. That cup of tea is no longer my only saving grace, it’s been replaced with a paycheck, a massage, a glass of wine, a vacation, or a night out with my wife. It doesn’t hold as much weight as it used to. It makes me wonder, am I losing an important part of my life? Am I letting go of my roots? Have I lost sight of the important things, the simple things, the things that didn’t have to do with bills, appointments, and work? Was I letting my cup of comfort be replaced with a cup of necessity? The tea has physically changed too, just as I have. With my new found knowledge of the effects of sugar and dairy, it’s typically black or herbal. The sweet milkiness has vanished. I guess my tea has grown up too.