Day 3: Teatime

In the schoolroom of my house, where my sisters and I used to do our work, six teacups sit all in a row on a shelf. Nowadays, they’re seldom used, but there was a time when the opposite was true. If my recollections are correct, Momma often had tea dates with each of her daughters. Every once in a while, when I’m dusting the smooth surfaces of the glass and brushing away the gathered particles, I’ll reminisce about the memory.

I remember that my cup was pink and floral and that it was the last in the row of dishes. I remember the brown, square table that was set up in the middle of the living room. I remember my wooden rocking chair that I dragged over to the table where my mother was waiting patiently for my arrival. Every date would start like this. One on one. Mother to daughter. We would sit and sip our tea, which in my eyes was much too bitter and was in desperate need of some sugar. We would talk about whatever came to mind. Being six and all, I doubt I said anything profound, but I imagine that she still listened wholeheartedly to my silly stories and childish adventures anyway. Beyond that, I don’t remember much else.

Maybe the setup was a bit silly, but the sentiment represented much more than that. It was a time for just the two of us, a periodic checkup that showed the intentionality of a loving parent who truly tried to connect with her children, and a simple gesture that signified a mother’s love for her daughters.

-Sara Joy

~ by Sara Espiritu on December 4, 2019.

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