Just because I grew up in a tea plantation, I am supposed to be some kind of tea expert. Truth is I don’t know much about tea, only that I drink a ton of it. Sometimes as much as 5 to 6 cups a day – fully loaded, full-bodied CTC Assam with milk and sugar. These are moments when time ticks slower, the soul lets out sigh and life becomes pondering moments. I see a miniscule fly stretch its gossamer wing to capture a sun diamond in its tip and notice the ocotillo has just sprung a new bud. Tea times are quiet times in my day, a small stretch that helps me level out before I head back to the computer to work on a design or off to a meeting.
Tea times are social times too. There are things you would tell a friend over a cup of tea, you would never tell otherwise. Tea talk is soul talk. All my friends say I remind them of teatime. Anitra swears she has a Pavlovian reflex to put the kettle on every time I call. In my childhood, the kettle hissed, teacups tinkled and the doorbell rang almost without stop.
If I am caffeine-buzzed all the time, I just don’t know it. I sleep like a baby at night and sometimes the last thing I drink before I go to bed is a cup of tea. I don’t think I am hopelessly addicted either. I have gone for days without tea and had no violent thoughts towards another human being or myself. I just miss it, like you would an old familiar friend.
As I sit here with my second cup this morning, the sun peeps over a big jagged rock and paints my patio with a big swatch of gold. I think to myself, La Dolce Vita. It’s the sweet life indeed.