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Pravin Kumar
Age: 60 Zodiac: 
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 Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 5:45 am |
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Today's Quote
The only way to find the limits of the possible is by going beyond them to the impossible.
-Arthur C. Clarke
Rosie clipped the twisted brown twine holding the box, folded back the flaps, and lifted the card lying atop the tissue-paper packing. A stylized hand-drawn rose adorned the note card.
The package arrived in the morning mail, and she had left it on the bench by the door, glancing at it throughout the day as she went about her chores. She hadn’t heard from that side of the family for years and wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was in the box. Since Grandma Rosa Jane died, the family just hadn’t kept in touch, and now, this package.
Flipping open the card, she recognized the note at the top—“Come for tea,” written in her grandmother’s distinctive hand. She remembered the cards, her grandma drawing each rose in pen, and she and Janie coloring them with colored pencils from Grandma’s well-worn art box. Below was written, “We were cleaning out the attic at Grandma Rosa Jane’s, and I knew you would want this. Do you remember? Love, Janie.”
Rosie lifted the crinkled, yellowing tissue, and there it was—the tea party.
They had tea together every Saturday afternoon during the cold winter months—Rosie, Janie, and Grandma. She lifted the teapot, examining the miniature roses in its pattern. She placed it, the creamer and sugar bowl, the two cups and saucers on her shining marble countertop. The antique tea set, with its old-fashioned pattern and cracked glaze, looked out of place in her modern apartment. She balanced firmly on the chrome bar stool, fingering the card. She could almost see the tea tray set for tea on the mahogany table near the fireplace in Grandma’s parlor. She thought for a moment she could hear the fire crackling and Grandma saying, “Miss Janie, Miss Rosie, it’s tea time.”
She was about to discard the box when she saw the small bundle of cards tied with faded pink ribbon peeking from beneath the tissue paper—the cards lovingly made by her grandmother while entertaining her granddaughters. The girls would chatter away until the tea was ready and the tray was set with lemon cookies and white linen napkins. What a divine time they had each Saturday, rummaging through the trunks in the attic, and then having chamomile tea with Grandma Rosa Jane.
Rosie prepared a pot of tea and moved the tea set to the table by her favorite chair. Still holding the precious cards in her hand, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Janie, can you come for tea?” A smile beamed across her face, and she could feel the warmth of her cousin’s smile come through in her reply.
“Of course, I have my cup right here. It has been too long since we’ve had tea.”
They chatted the afternoon away, remembering their childhood and catching up with their lives now. Rosie realized what she had been missing. The childhood connection to family was still there for her as an adult. She knew now what her grandmother knew all along—it just takes a little effort.
“Janie, I remember what Grandma always said. The tea is good, it warms your body, but it’s the company and conversation at tea time that warms the soul.”
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