1 year ago for day 36, 2020 with 406 words.

The comfort of tea

One of the greatest pleasures of my day is getting back home and making a pot of green tea.

I rinse the pot from the previous day, not worrying too much about making it sparkly clean, as the layers and layers of past brewings slowly enhance the taste. It doesn't compare to my great-grandma's pot, but I might just get there with enough time.

While the water boils, I pick my mug. There is many to choose from. The one I bought after my first pull request years ago and its twin brother bought at the same store chain when I first moved to Vancouver, years apart, both covered in red cat outlines. The red "coffee = love" one that has a twin in my mom's cupboard. The transparent tea mug with thick walls I found lonely in my first apartment. All the Warsaw mugs my best friend keeps giving me whenever I visit.

I ponder over them for a few minutes, looking for the mood I want them to help me invoke. The thickness of the wall, the shape in my hand, the amount of tea I can pour at once. When I finally make my mind, it's time to choose the tea - am I in mood for jasmine? do I need the refreshment of mint? am I making a pot just for myself and can have all the ginger my partner hates?

I take the perfectly shaped tea spoon and put two scoops into the pot. I wait for the water to take on colour and set it aside on the table. One could tell where I usually drink it, as the big round coasters are always on my drawing desk, in the office, and at the kitchen counter. I put the tea to brew and focus on something else while I wait.

A pot of tea is grounding. It's a slow, meditative experience, thanks to the thick walls and the taste changing as I pour out more and more water, and the leaves enhance the next cup. I can drink it warm from a freshly brewed pot. I can drink it in the morning to take my vitamins with. Sometimes, I'd cover it and let stand for a day or two in a mug, so I can have a cold, strong tea with different notes coming to the surface.

Coffee is a necessity. Tea is a ritual.


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By Alicja

drawsplainer, ukulele player, immigrant

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