Tea for Two

I know I’ve surely mentioned before about my affinity for collections.

I collect many things: gingerbread men, all things apple, old cookbooks, and miniature teapots just to name a few.

Several of the miniature teapots I have are more showpieces than anything else with tiny, intricately fashioned cups and saucers. They’re certainly not usable, but they’re very sweet to look at.

There’s something especially comforting, too, about a colorful, little teapot that is made for use and lots of it. During the cold, dreary days of winter I often like to curl up with a pot of tea and a great book and let time tick away as I indulge in one of my favorite passions.

You may be wondering how I can think about drinking a pot of  hot tea in this blazing summer heat and humidity. Well, it’s kind of a long-winded story, but I’ll tell you the brief version.

Many years ago, a dear friend and I used to meet at our local favorite bookstore and talk about books, writing, and what was new in each other’s lives. We’d scope out a small, quiet area in the coffee shop section where we’d each order the most delicious cups of tea and spend literally hours savoring not only the tea, but each other’s company as well. We valued what this time stood for: shared passion for the written word and a friendship borne out of that interest.

Out of respect for her privacy, should she by chance read this one day, I’ll refer to her as “Debbie.”

Debbie and I had the habit of marking various holidays, birthdays, and events with mutual gifts. They weren’t costly things but, most often, little tokens to mark the occasion making the day extra special.

One day, during our “tea time,” Debbie informed me in a matter-of-fact fashion that she was moving. Not just across town moving. Like about four states away moving. I could feel my heart sink at the news, but we resolved to stay in touch.

Before she moved, we marked our last visit by exchanging final parting gifts. Because of what this turn-of-events stood for, we gave each other something that would be destined to last, and something, too, that would remind us of each other in the years to come.

Her fingers gently caressed the leather-bound Bible that I’d had her name engraved upon. (I wanted to make sure my friend knew there was one who loved her even more than I did.)

I remember my eyes welling with tears when I ran my palm lovingly over the gift she gave me. It was a beautiful ceramic teapot–an English cottage covered in ivy and roses.

“Maybe every time you have a cup of tea, you’ll think of me…” she said softly.

We kept in touch for the next several months. Then one day, an e-mail went unanswered. I tried again. Still no reply. She was probably busy still getting settled in her new home I convinced myself, but deep down, I had this feeling of dread.

After about the fourth attempt, reality wrapped me in its unwelcomed embrace. Our friendship had ended. The very thing I hadn’t wanted to recognize had indeed happened. Debbie had a new life and had moved on.

I was sad for a long time afterward, but I didn’t dwell on it. I’ve often heard it said that God brings certain people into your path for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. This was true with my friend Debbie.

I still have the teapot and whenever I pour myself a cup of tea from it, yes, Debbie, I still think of you. May God bless you, dear one, wherever you are today.

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Do you have a favorite tea time/writing memory?