Grandma had her tea

Once at breakfast

Once around lunch time

Green tea

Steeped in her porcelain tea pot

With matching cups

I was invited sometimes

Sitting across from her

My tea weaker

with a spoon of sugar

Hers sweetened with saccharin pills

Mine lightened with milk

We would sip and talk

I felt grown up

Important, almost Victorian

 

Grandpa never joined us

He was a coffee man himself

But he set up the service for her

Boiled her water on the stove

Filled the pot for her

Added the bags

 

Their ritual twice a day

Every day

 

Later when they were gone

Mom and I had our own tea days

Earl Gray and Lemon Zinger

A cup in the microwave

Replaced the whistling kettle

Porcelain tea pots with matching cups

became decorations in the china cabinet

 

After Mom passed, it was just me

and soon the tea

Became coffee on the run

 

Sometimes I imagine sitting there

Gently holding the fragile tea cup

I can taste the milk

Hear Grandma’s laugh

 

Perhaps one day I will buy a box of green tea

Maybe pull out that whistling kettle

Let the tea steep in the Porcelain Teapot

Set out a fragile matching porcelain cup

And sip slowly

The way Grandma taught me