Friday night the Mean Moms got together for dinner and therapy at our usual hangout, a Vietnamese Restaurant. It was cold, and we all came from harried days. The first one to arrive had ordered hot tea, and was quick to change the order to a pot when we arrived. That simple cup of tea was the perfect transition from the clamor of the day into the great comfort of good friends. Just that morning I had read this wonderful paragraph in “The Elegance of the Hedgehog” by Muriel Barbery.
The tea ritual: such a precise repetition of the same gestures and the same tastes; accesion to simple, authentic and refined sensations, a license given to all, at little cost, to become aristocrats of taste, because tea is the beverage of the wealthy and of the poor; the tea ritual, therefore, has the extraordinary virtue of introducing into the absurdity of our lives an aperture of serene harmony. Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, lost souls mourn beauty, insignificance surrounds us. Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends, one hears the wind outside, autumn leaves rustle and take flight, the cat sleeps in a warm pool of light. And with each swallow, time is sublimed.
My youngest savors a cup of tea every night just before bedtime, and is always kind enough to offer to fix me a cup. I think I need to start enjoying the luxury of a cup of hot tea!