Grandma’s tea

Hey Grandma, may I have a cup of tea pleasee, hesitant she seemed, With her two hands on her knees, what is that she plead.

As her sweet yet concerned glanced washed all over me.

It happened again Grandma!! my tears flowed violently, as they leaked from my eyes, Like a symphony of a beat or like the never forgetful scent, of a rotten piece of meat. a battered shattered face, a secret couldn’t keep. It happened again Grandma I repeated, only this time i couldn’t speak, lips muttered, and my hair off fleek, a pretty dress ruined with blood like streaked.

What happened my child Grandma said intently? have I not told you before that oppression is not for the weak, nor for the faint of heart you see, for where two or more cannot agree, an ongoing battle we silently breedth……while stirring a cup of tea, the one thing that brought Grandma blissful glee.

In all my years I have come to know, not every gift is a gift worth opening, and not every battle is worth fighting.

He did it again Grandma, he promised this would be the last time you see, I only wanted to make him happy, so a surprised birthday party I planned. except ! he wasn’t even charmed, he came home swinging someone new on his arm, acting like a player, a stranger to me, for a fist of iron i thought our love to be, but infatuation and pain was all i could see. 11 years of marriage, with five miscarriages, and scares of disdain, what a fool i had been, thinking about repairs, after all my heart wasnt an item, neither was our home longer a happy place. only darkness of memories waiting to be erased, why are you so surprised he said. This is my new girlfriend he whispered, you saw the signs, you read my mind, this love was over a long time to be, I thought you understood I was just gladly waiting for you to set me free, my expired bride to be. The hurt of his words hit me lean, yet i couldnt tell which hurt the most of his abuse, for pain cannot be measured, but the intent of his voice reminded me of his dark romantic pleasures, that always seemed like a distorted treasure. because my emotions for him was deep, so much so that his unkindness i couldn't see, damn i sighed, foolish me. thinking i could washed a player clean. While robing my own insanity, for a so called fairytail dream. I suddenly realized that this man was a monster to me, He thanked the guests for attending, and hurried them proudly away, As he watched me from what felt like his right hand gaze, for no sooner that the house was empty, that I felt the blow of what felt like something planned.

Did I ask for this he slammed, with a bottle of whisky uncanned, I thought this would make you happy I murmured, you are very ungrateful I frowned, knowing darn well this could be the last time I heard my own groans. So frequent they had become I didn’t realize that I was now immune and numb. Grandma …..a slave to this pain I have become, like a convent who have found their Nun, and the outside world is now a shun.

Grandma is there something wrong I have done? Did I not attend church every other day as a child, was I not a obedient humbled daughter? I cried some more, rewashing the old tears that had already left their marks. Yes my child but this is never the case, for living and having emotions are just the same as seasons change, inconsistent, it will hurt you without no reason. But what is most important is that we never let those reasons break us, instead, we find a way to let them make us. confidently she spoke as if she felt all my pain, so empathetic grandma was, a trait I wished I had gained. for deeper than the occean her soul would felt, for anyones hurt or silent story untell. with a heart fill of warmth and unconditional love. She was always dedicated in helping others and sharing all her love, she was the foundation of the family, so wise and blessed, she had a wide opened ear, never shuning anyone away, she would listen to your problems without expressions, or a grudge,it was as to say Grandma fixations and attention to conversations, was like, she herself had lived many lifetimes before. Because she seemed to had a fix for every one's problem, and every detail no matter how small, adding the final ingredient to her pot of tea, so proudly to help so overwhelm.

while i watched her pour her favorite cup of tea, a rare grass leaf lemon bush, a splash of ginger with a piece of Kush, and her secret ingredient, one she refused to gave up. she handed me the cup of brewing magic. Along with her honest looks, grandma never really makes this special tea, neither did she for just anyone, But this special ingredient was made only for those who really needed it, she would often say,

The tea she called, ”self love” because after sipping, this taste made you felt so guilty, it would suddenly remind you of the love that you didn’t pour into your own self, the kind you just could not deny, the love from that cup that was needed before pouring into anyone else. the kind of love that would become an armor if we so dear to Harbour …you, me, we, cold, stone me, abused, mistreated we, betrayed she, he, love is sweet,sour, hot, cold, bold intertwined hearts sometimes mean, too prideful, too ashamed to speak, seek help, we, but love is a friend not to be an enemy unconscious we seek. Thinking it has to hurt, to be real, love you me. unconditional love we need, authentic and sweet, not bitter and greed. Love we need, self love we breedth, but applying we fail to achieve, this love we seek. You me we,unconditional love we need, a lack of pouring leaves us mourning, to the scorching of our own groaning. Love we need, talk is cheap, so action we need, fifty fifty we must seek, respect and loyalty, through a glass we peep, love is fragile, we handle with too much care, only out of fear. You me love we, no limitations we see, the ultimate, yes we can conceive, you, me, we rise to the occasion of love from the pouring of our own cups

we, grandma’s tea.