My Ode to Tea
There is a cup above the rest. A cup above every cup of coffee, regular and large.
That is my cup. Tea is in my cup.
Similar but not the same anymore, but worthwhile evermore. Soy milk is not regular milk, but watching dairy farms changed that. Veganism is in my cup.
Getting bone cold on a morning like today, rainy and wet and blech, this day that’s so similar to many-an-event (fuck you Toronto Zoo Run 10K and your propensity for feet-soaking). Tea gives it worth, bone-cold more value in the context of weather. Warmth is in my cup.
Sweet tea reminds me of my grandmother, her noble attempt to find the soy milk of my dreams. The sugar changed the taste, made it more warming and full of love, made me smile. Love is in my cup.
Through exhaustion, not knowing if my shoulder hurts because it is hurt or because it notices the drop-dead fatigue, tea is on my table. It will let me get through the next couple of classes, brace me until the end of the day, convince me that a day off from my September is needed. Strength is in my cup.
My cup of tea is veganism, warmth, love, strength. Tea is in my cup.