05 March 2013
Some people need their caffeine in the morning. Some call for a fast, hot black brew. Some need their double shot, non-fat, full-sugar, no real nutrients hot beverage. But some wish only for a simple cup of tea. A splash of milk, a drop of honey. That’s perfection to me.
Whenever I make myself a cup of black tea with milk & honey I relive the dark fall mornings of 2011 when an 8:00 am drawing class called me from my slumber several times a week. I loved that class. I mean – I hated that class – because I am mediocre at best when it comes to drawing. But I loved that class. I loved my professor – his mannerisms alone were entertainment enough to keep me awake. And his perspective on art was established & respectable, though I don’t think he found anything astonishing in any of my work. I loved walking across the barren campus with the sharp autumn wind kissing my face, feeling as if it was all mine – that I could run, skip, or even hop down the middle of the street if it so humored me & no one would witness it. And nearly every morning I brewed myself a cup of tea to take a long. (Okay…sometimes it was coffee…spiked with Bailey’s. Shhh.)
Those ten weeks wouldn’t have been the same had I not taken my tea with me. It would have been far colder, that’s for sure. And I wouldn’t have felt the same standing at my easel – had my right hand been empty as its graphite covered partner fumbled across the overwhelming blank page before me. My tea comforted me in a way, I suppose.
And now this morning as I sip my black tea with milk & honey I fumble again across a blank page, attempting to produce something worthwhile. Something to remember.