the tea steeps for 4 minutes, unless you forget about it or ignore the timer on your watch, and then it steeps for 5 to 11.
the over-steeped flavor is the only way it tastes right anymore after so many years of forgetting it or ignoring the timer.
once, you poured it at 4 minutes and were proud to be prompt, but the tea tasted weak and flavorless, even with extra honey.
once, you poured it at 4 minutes and were proud to be prompt, until you remembered that clock time is a social construct and steeping time is a cultural suggestion, and culture is created by people, and people make rules, and rules are meant to be questioned and broken.
always, you drink it from a 16oz mug, handmade by your favorite pottery people. most days, it gets cold before you’re halfway done.
most days, you think, I wish this was still hot. most days, you remember that life isn’t perfect or fair and you don’t always get what you want, so you drink your tea hot, then warm, then lukewarm, then cold. most days, you think, I love this tea, I love this mug, I love this ritual.
most days, you think, I love myself, or at least I like myself, or at least I’m trying to see myself as a friend, not a foe.
most days, you practice this ritual with oat milk and local raw honey, but maple syrup will do, or sugar in a pinch, and other forms of non-dairy milk (or regular milk) are fine too, but Odin help you if you have to drink it plain — ew.
amazing that, after so many pieces of your life have continued to fall apart, you rarely run out of tea or oat milk or honey without already having bought more, because it turns out this simple ritual has become important to you.
amazing that you do something in the same way, nearly every day, for so many years, and yet you continue to believe society’s story that you are an unreliable person, and this is why you think nobody likes you, and this is why you think you will never be successful, and this is why you think you will end up broke and homeless, dead on the streets, and alone.
amazing that people have been drinking tea, every day, for centuries, even as homes and worlds have collapsed around us.
amazing that people have been trying to decode happiness for centuries, while small moments that build our lives surround us.
amazing that I picked up this Diary to write again after taking time off with my mom. amazing that I have a mom. amazing that I have anything at all.
amazing: my mug, my black tea, my oat milk, my honey, my setting a 4-minute timer, my ignoring it, my wishing the tea were hotter, my allowing the wish to float away like a leaf in the water.