Ghost With a Tea

She can remember the first time she actually had tea with a ghost....or was it a dream? No the first time she had tea it was real, with real people. On Mother's Day every year, at the nursing home hosted a Mother's Day Tea complete with pretty tablecovers, real China teacups and teapots. It was complete with tea biscuits and a huge assortment of teas to suit every taste. There she met Ms. Pat. She was one of twenty plus other ladies there sharing the spotlight of a special occasion. Ms. Pat was one of her momma's possee. She preferred to not call them " cronies", because they weren't. They were polite, refined and hospitable. In her momma's possee was three other ladies, one of which was Ms. Pat. Not that her momma had a magnetic personality. She could be feisty, cranky and sometimes even rude. But what she was, was a light blue-blooded Bostonian of questionable heritage, (her words), and a "damn Yankee". But rather the draw to them was the daughter and granddaughter that were faithful visitors that no one of them ever had. They became their own group and enjoyed each other's company and as such became a bonded family of sorts. Ms. Pat was always dressed as if she would be stepping out for shopping, complete with a luncheon with biscuits, sophisticated sandwiches and the best tea in town. Which was something to see since she was wheelchair bound like all the other residents there. One day as she was heading to her momma's room, she stopped in to Ms. Pat's room. Unfortunately she wasn't ready for visitors. She still hasn't put her teeth in or her "face" on. She threw up her hands to her face in the same manner of the scene in the Phantom of the Opera where Christine unveils his disfigurement. They were both embarrassed and she backed out of the room with an apology. Fortunately for her they were bonded enough it wasn't held against her and a lesson learned. She learned that Ms. Pat's name was Petronella Sweeney. What a proper name for such a proper lady. The yearly Mother's Day Tea was an event they all looked forward to by all. But sadly three of the group passed away including her momma. Mother's Day Tea lost its luster. Which was just as well because Ms. Pat was moved to another facility and her heart just couldn't bear walking the corridors where her mother would no longer be.

She didn't see Ms. Pat for a season,then one day she received a call from her. In tears she explained she had no friends and they didn't understand her. Within her affection for her, she found she felt compelled to visit. There they reconnected, not over tea, but a soft drink they shared in paper cups and a picnic table with no attractive tablecloth. It was a start. So they decided to have their own tea party beginning the next season. And they did. There was a meadow where the bees hummed summer tunes and the breezes led the grasses in a dance. The table wore a lacy tablecover. The teapot was a beautiful pewter with ceramic floral accents that made it even more festive. The teacups were porcelain with tiny touches of silver that matched the teapot. The treats were tiny cream cakes with a smidgen of powdered sugar and little delicate sandwiches that complemented the teas that were plentiful and so interesting in their flavor. It was these times she learned all about the different types of teas. So much so that every time she passed a Tea Shoppe the sweet smell of tea leaves brought the vision of the meadow to the front of her memory. And there was always fresh flowers for the centerpiece...lilacs and daisies in a fluted vase, and sometimes petite roses and lilacs. Ms. Pat loved lilacs...

Season after season, always late Spring or early Summer they had their tea in the meadow. Ms. Pat always hosted. She wore the prettiest sundresses. Something perfectly suitable for a tea party in the meadow. And her wheelchair was gone. It wasn't discussed, the where or the why, it just was. When she proposed to return the favor to host the next season's tea, Ms. Pat declined saying that she was showing her appreciation to her for being included during the gatherings at the nursing home. She stated that, " Being included was the most under appreciated gesture. To be made a part of something that made her feel valued left her with golden memories that filled up her heart."

As time passed she was finally given permission to bring the flowers for the teas. The choice was hers to make. They were always left behind as a momento of the time spent together. There was small talk and sometimes small silences that was equally comfortable during their time together. Sometimes there was wistful conversation of times past with the ladies no longer present. It was spoken with reverence that could only be found in moments that people or places that were shared could bring. They never spoke of the future for it was an uncertainty they chose to keep absent from the gathering. It would never be an invited guest at their table. But she always left with the sweet taste of honey on her lips and a contentment within her heart that felt otherworldly and seemingly impossible to find in this realm.

Tea time came once more and unexpectedly she found herself in an empty meadow....there was no table, no tea, no Ms. Pat...She stood silently, with her face to the sun and the fragrant floral centerpiece in her hands awaiting its special place at the tea table. After a bit she realized there would be no tea this year...

She decided to walk a while in a meadow she had only ever seen a small part of. There was never a reason to venture beyond their designated tea gathering place. Even as she walked she still stopped from time to time to keep a lookout for her friend. As she stepped, a tiny path opened up and she could see a delicately ornate gate. She approached with care and discovered a marble statue in the center. She was a beautiful nymph-like statue and she was holding a small teapot in one hand and a teacup in the other. At the base was an inscription, Petronella T. Sweeney...born Jan. 1934...passed thru life......no date! Only the words that said, " Do not mourn me, I am having my tea with the angels.." And resting lightly, dried but still recognizable, was many bouquets of flowers. Gently with a prayer and a farewell, she lay this year's flowers beside them.