Tea the Magic Key

I love plants. I love water. Tea brings my old friends together to flash memories and myriad visions of the now through simple smell, taste, and feel, sometimes tingly, sometimes deep in the earth growing up through rare orchids. Found the boy playing with my favorite tea strainer when I got home last night, the kind that you squeeze to open the little mouth. He had a green grape of questionable edibility bouncing around in it. I asked for it back straightaway, informing him that it was meant for tea only. He, obviously & deeply enamored with the non-toy, refused to relinquish it, based on the argument that he was about to fill it with tea. It seemed an unlikely proposal at first thought, but when he flew out the back door to the mint patch it seemed more reasonable. Gumbo came back with the little leaves arranged just so in the strainer. He told me it was for me to make for myself a cup of tea. I predicted a weak brew because the leaves were few and unchopped, but set about with the water boiling regardless. After pouring the water and letting it steep for awhile the rich color surprised me. Then the smell hit and that extra bit of magic that a good cup of tea, traditional or herbal, can invoke got invoked. Turns out that he must have chosen one of the varietal mints, probably pineapple mint, maybe lemon. Smelled delicious, tasted tingly, invigorating. I poured a couple small cups for the little ones. They took turns taking long sips, standing facing each other in the kitchen, letting out exagerrated "ahhhhh"s after each drink. Moments like that ain't for sale. The boy got a little excited and said "This is the best cup of tea I've ever had. I love it." One of the best cups I've ever had. They both wanted seconds, and when my cup was done the boy came by and drank the very last magic drop.

My mind drifted back to caveperson times, the first cups of tea, the first cups, the joy of discovery, a future of scented steam wisps letting lightning & desire find their harmony, sing about life fantastic, beyond pre-conceived notions. False fences fall away, once so high I couldn't get over them, so wide I couln't get around them, one of the first songs I learned, like it was yesterday.