Tea and a new baby, 2008
I was reading Michelle Scorziello ‘s article about dear old tea.
Tea and the Power of Ritual
My husband’s family is American and many years ago my sister-in-law came to stay with my husband and me in England. I offered her a cup of…
Her story reminded me of one of the happiest moments of my life, when the tea tray came into my hospital room after my baby was born.
They served the tea in a large wide cup and on a saucer with Marie biscuits. The cup was wide enough for me to dip the Marie biscuit into the tea without having to break the biscuit. That wide teacup made me crazy happy.
A few moments later, they brought my baby into to be fed, all purple and wrinkled. They rolled the tea tray away and placed the placid baby in my arms.
My baby would not open her eyes for six more days. She didn’t like that she’d already been born and she was sulking, keeping her eyes closed — like a teenager who didn’t want to be shaken awake.
I still recall that day, the sunshine of that morning, the knowledge that all I had to do was feed her while the hospital staff watched over my sleeping baby — the utter peace I felt.
They did take care of the two of us — for two whole days, before they sent me home with a live tiny human who needed a lot of taking care of!
In Michele’s latest, she picks her 2021 tea article to pieces, critiquing her then writing style and her choice of phrases, and how even Hemingway would self-edit himself over and over again, with better and better results.
I couldn’t find a thing wrong with Michele’s tea story. I could easily read the few “extra” words that she felt made her sentences or phrases “too long.”
Michele sounds happy in her story, and a pinch of happy is worth a pound of Hemingway.
Especially if there is a pinch of Assam Black to go with it!