The Magic Tea

Whistle, whistle!

I see the angry column of air spiraling down towards the ground.

Whoosh, Whoosh!

The wind blows into my ears, ready to swallow me whole.

Crack!

A piece of wood from the roof of the old red barn breaks off, and I see it fly through the air 20 feet above the ground, before disappearing into the column of twisting, thrashing air.

“Ahhhhh!” I scream, but the sound is almost completely drowned out by the roaring of the wind. 

The clouds above are darker and more ominous than I’ve ever seen, barely letting any light through. Rain pours down on me, soaking my clothes and hair. It feels surprisingly warmer than I’d expect.

WAIT?!? Why am I just standing here?!? I should be running, I should have fled! I had time, but I didn’t move! What was I thinking?!?!? I suddenly feel a deep feeling of dread, like a heavy weight pulling down on my entire body. I know what’s going to happen, it’s too late to escape now. The harsh grip of the tornado throws me into the sky. I fly towards it, bracing myself.

Whistle, whistle!

I jolt up. I’m suddenly thrown back into the dry, hot, late July air of western Kansas, away from the menacing tornado. I turn my head, and see the soft, yellow pillow I was lying on. I look down, and see the brown, plush blanket I was lying under. My heart beats furiously in my chest, as if it wants to break free and expand into the entire room, still terrified of the tornado from the dream.

Whistle, whistle!

My clothes are drenched, not from the rain, but from sweat. I grab at the thermometer from the little coffee table next to the couch, still half asleep. I stick it into my mouth, feeling the cool metal on my tongue. I wait a minute, and it beeps. 101.2, no cooler than before, yet I still feel freezing cold. Whenever I get sick, I always get chills, and warm lemon ginger chamomile tea is the only thing that warms me up. Sweet, soothing, warm lemon ginger chamomile tea….. 

Oh no!

Whistle, whistle! Sccrreeeeecchh!

The blue tea kettle I started heating up who knows how long ago screeches at me again, more insistent this time. I throw the blanket off of me and jump up, racing into the kitchen. I frantically turn the metal knob on the stove to the “off” position and pull the lid off of the kettle. Steam rushes out, flying into my face and temporarily blinding me. But when it clears a second later, I can see the small amount of water left in the pot, only about a quarter of what it was when I put it in. 

My shoulders slump. It hasn’t rained in weeks, and the county has implemented extreme water restrictions. We all need to be very careful about the amount of water we use, so that it doesn’t dry up entirely. Now, only about half a cup of my precious water remains in the kettle.

I let myself fall to the floor in despair, right in the middle of the kitchen. When I had gone to the couch to “lie down just for a couple minutes” while my water was warming up, I had already started dreaming about the delicious, soothing warmth.

I stand back up, figuring I might as well make a small amount of tea with the little water that’s left, before it cools back down. I grab a small glass cup, and leave it on the counter. I grab out all the ingredients; 1 slice of fresh lemon and 2 glass jars, one filled with dried chamomile flowers, the other with dried and chopped ginger nubs. I grab the tea infuser out of the drawer, and put in all the ingredients, plus a pinch of sugar. I put the tea infuser in the cup, and then grab an oven mit, put it on, and reach for the kettle. The water splatters and bubbles as it touches the hot metal sides, and splashes as it falls into the cup, beautiful steam rising up. 

As I walk back over to the couch to drink it, I remember the first time this became my go-to sick drink, when I was about 4 years old.

…

Aaaa-choo!

I sneeze. My nose feels stuffy and my head spacy.

“Here you go”, my Mom says.

I reach out my hand to grab the steaming cup of tea from hers. I’ve been freezing cold all day, even though it’s not cold out. I’m sick with the flu for the first time, and it feels horrible!

I put my nose to the surface of the water and breathe in. It smells sweet, flowery, and sharp, all at the same time.

“Wow, it smells so good!” I say.

I take a sip. And then another. And another. The tea feels warm on my tongue, and fills my whole mouth with its flavor. I can almost taste my Mom’s love in it, along with the lemon, ginger, and chamomile. I drink the entire glass, and then suddenly, I notice that I don’t feel as cold anymore!

“This tea tastes so good, it must be magic!” I shout delightedly to my Mom, and go to hug her. As our arms wrap around each other, I feel her magical love melt the sickness away.

…

I sit on the couch, the brown, plush blanket wrapped around me, ready to take my first sip of the magic-tasting love-filled water. I bring my nose to it, smelling the delicious warm goodness. I blow on the hot tea to make it cool enough to drink, making wavy ripples dance across its surface, and wispy steam rise up to fill the air.

I stick out my tongue, just enough to get a little bit of tea onto it. I bring the cup closer to my mouth, and take a sip. It’s just as warming and soothing as ever, the lemon and ginger filling my mouth and body with excitement, the chamomile relaxing me and making me feel sleepy, ready to rest and heal. I stare out the window, the flat, dry land stretching out for miles, without any sign of rain. I take another sip, the warmth and love filling my body from head to toe. 

Then suddenly, I notice a little speck of cloud in the sky. Could rain be on its way at last? As I continue sipping the tea, more specks of clouds appear. They come together and start to turn gray. Suddenly, the whole sky is completely filled with beautiful rain clouds. They get darker and darker, but unlike in my dream, these clouds look friendly. Like they see all of the suffering that the drought is causing, and want to help. Like the magical love from the tea called out to them, asking them to bring rain.

And then, as I near the end of my small cup of tea, it happens. Raindrops start pounding on the roof, falling down onto the dry farmland outside, and streaking the glass windows with beautiful droplets of sparkling water.

And as I take the last delicious sip of my tea, I whisper to myself, “magic!”.