December 19, 2016

Quick Story

My Instagram Post 19 December 2016

Small Tea

 

Quick story:
“When I first had real tea it was a shared experience. I had only really had a lipton iced tea or maybe a snapple from time to time whenever the quickie market was out of some other sugary beverage I was craving. It was winter and I was in D.C. A roomate of mine was quietly brewing a pot of something that smelled like a flower garden after a heavy rain. There were seven of us living in a shared house but me and another roomate, a young woman in her early 20s, were home at the moment. “Hey, come here,” she said. “I can’t drink this alone.” “What is that?” I asked. “It’s a Japanese green tea with jasmine petals. It doesn’t matter, sit down.” I sat. She placed a small cup in front of me and lifted the teapot over it, pouring the liquid carefully. I watched the steam rising off the surface. “Smells nice, huh?” It did. “I used to have tea with my grandmother all the time,” she admitted. “She was a darjeeling fan, she was into the strong stuff. Me, I like it a little bit lighter, more floral. Drink!” I lifted the cup to my lips and drank, and as I drank the hours slipped away into a million conversations, daydreams, and shared laughter. We must have had three pots of tea that night. I honestly can’t recall the taste of the tea, it’s properties, if it was more bitter or sweet, or perfect. What I took with me that night was the lesson of tea. The whole philosophy behind that wonderful plant is this— the beauty of life disguises itself in simplicity all of the time, right under our noses. Just like the taste of tea it is not overtly flagrant nor underwhelming. It was someone making the effort to call me from my instagram/facebook reverie in the living room to enjoy a moment of unadulterated humanity in the dining room with her. It is the act of sharing itself.”

 

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