“Can I offer you a hot beverage?”
That gets me to laugh a little every time I hear that line delivered on The Big Bang Theory. A character with such social anxiety issues brought about by his rigid need to have a pattern to live his life by, offering a small amount of comfort when he doesn’t know how else to handle people.
I have a huge collection of tea from around the world. Green teas from Asia, this African Red Bush tea one of my neighbors gave me, and the go-to tea for when I just need to go someplace calm in my own world – Blueberry Bliss.
Rarely do I add real sugar, mostly the fake calorie-free stuff. The notion of the empty calories doesn’t appeal to me. But I’m learning to once again enjoy my tea without anything added. Just the way some seller intended.
Years ago someone told me that Red Teas had a calming affect on the stomach. And it was something that I desperately needed after yet another round of Chemo had ripped my appetite to shreds. It might just have been the harshness that black tea naturally exhibits, and white teas are so mild that at times I taste nothing at all. [another fun part of too many medications experienced by too many people!]
I could never get my ex to understand why it had such a calming affect on me. Although she did like having hot chocolate brought to her on even the warmest of days, so in some way she must have gotten it. She used to ask how I made things, it was just that I learned how she liked them.
My niece has been trying to do the same with the tea she sometimes brings me. I taught her long ago to ignore the times on a label and how to tell by certain smells and colors if it is just right. Yeah, I’m a little bit of a snob about tea…
The best feeling in the world to me is sitting on a couch, cup of tea in hand, rubbing shoulders with the person next to you over a shared experience. The kind we all have every day, that nudge that lets someone know you get the joke or a shared smile from something heard or said.
It might be some grownup version of when my friends and I would jostle on the couch watching some sport. Hitting each other in the arm or leg, hoping they just saw that same amazing catch or pass. Only back then it was soda or something overly sugary which hyper-stupid teenage boys didn’t need.
This is completely selfish, but it was something I hoped I would have always been able to do with my daughter throughout her life. The drinks might have changed, but sitting across from her at some table just listening to her day, her worries, her life was all I ever really needed. Now I just smile whenever I see the same scene played out by others, a little jealous at times.
110 degrees or 10 degrees below zero, doesn’t matter to me. Sitting on the couch, laying in a bed, just walking down the sidewalk towards the car; it doesn’t matter to me. Just put that cup in my hand and watch as I drift off to another point in time, a different place in time.
<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/pour-some-sugar-on-me/">Pour Some Sugar on Me</a>