tea - a short story

This life-giving concoction is the first thing I reach for in the morning. It fuels me through the day, calms my nerves, and grounds me in a comforting ritual.

Without it, I feel unsettled, a quiet anxiety creeping in. Just the thought of that first sip sends shivers down my spine.

I snapped out of my stupor at the sound of rapid boiling, followed by the familiar click of the kettle—my cue that the water was ready.

"Who is my lucky contender today…?" I mused, tracing my fingers over the tins of tea leaves my family and I had collected over the years.

Black? Green? Jasmine? Silver Needle? Pu-erh? White Peony? Maybe Matcha? 

The choices were endless, but I knew I had to pick one—my body was calling for liquid nourishment.

"I’ll choose you," I hummed, reaching for a tin of High Mountain tea leaves I had bought from a tea house in Da’an District, Taipei. The memory of my first sip resurfaced, reminding me of its calming effect on my mind and how it cleansed my body from within.

Making tea is a beautiful act of self-love, a mindful process, a ceremony. I carefully spooned the tea leaves into the infuser before pouring the hot water in a slow, swirling motion, ensuring each leaf was kissed by the heat.

I closed the lid and let it steep—let it work its magic.

Impatience settled in as I watched streams of amber seep through the tiny holes, slowly transforming the water.

"I need a mug," I thought, reaching into the cupboard once again for my favourite Hello Kitty mug, a cherished companion for over a decade.

"It’s been a few minutes," I noted, glancing at my teapot and smiling at the light amber liquid.

"It’s ready."

As I poured the elixir into my mug, the sweet floral aroma enveloped me, momentarily transporting me to a grassy mountain in Taiwan.

I already knew—my body was in for a treat.

I held the mug, my hand fitting perfectly around it, and carefully brought it to my lips.

A sigh of relief escaped as the first sip caressed my dry mouth and throat.The second sip spread its nourishment across my chest before greeting my heart.The third sip fanned out to my stomach, wrapping it in a warm embrace as if to say good morning.

Like a garden in a temple, the nectar breathed life into my body—awakening it from barren to bloom.

I felt alive again.

I could finally see.

"I could even conquer the world," I mused, sinking deeper into my slow morning.