12/05/2022
When I was little, it was my Dad who would always put the kettle on. He swore that a good cup of tea could cure anything from nightmares to heartache, a scraped knee to the common cold and everything in between. And if the tea wasn't strong enough... well, a hot toddy would do the trick.
He was right; a good cup of tea could cure almost anything – if he made it. And that in itself is the problem now. He's not around anymore and I'm on my own to cure what ails me. I do make a good cup of tea but it's never quite the same. One day, maybe I'll get the knack but I'm not sure I want to. Not without him.
The true magic to my Dad’s cure-all cuppa came not from the tea, its time steeping in the pot or just the right amount of milk added to the cup – that wasn’t it at all – it was the man himself who held the magic. It was his care, his kind words and his joking nature that could turn any problem, no matter how small or large, into no problem at all. That is, when he was in the right mood. He was an Irishman, who at times would go missing in his misery. I wish he didn't. I wish he could have stayed and never strayed into the recesses of his mind because when he was happy, the whole world seemed to sing in his chorus. It was in those moments that I wished time could stand still. He would stay that Dad -- happy, loving and full of magic -- always. But he never did and I think that may have made the tea even better... because it was fleeting.
I think about my dad just about every time I put the kettle on. Forever my father's daughter, chasing lost time and happy days in the perfect cup of tea.
❤☕
***
Image text:
"When in need," said Bear. "A hot cup of tea and a good friend can cure just about anything from the common cold to heartache and all points in between."
©Tara Shannon
