love in a mug of tea

Posted: November 25, 2010 in story over coffee
Tags: ,

Oh well, it’s raining again outside, a hail, not yet a snow, with a hard windblows. I am sitting here, blowing my hot jasmine tea that my mom sent me. It’s our family tradition to have tea each afternoon, and talk over about everything, life in general, school and even boys. We shared laughter alot and she hearts my sadness in very good way. On rainy days, mom made us hot chocolate, where my mom will still have her jasmine tea and I was only snuggling the blanket and my head on her lap.  She would start telling me some stories, and she is very good in story telling, which when I grew up, I realized they were all not real, it was only my mom making up the story to fill up my imagination. Ah how funny my mommy is.

I miss my mom and her jasmine tea, she loves it thick, hot and not too sweet, with lemon sometimes. She loves to let the tea leaf in her mug, ah ya, we never used a cup for tea, but a mug, sometimes a big one. I made the same tea too here, in a mug of course, but she is thousand miles away from me that we can not do our afternoon talk or listening to me whinning over. So the taste is the same but the feeling never been the same. Beside, I stop whining over everytime I am away from her (which is often), because once I did that and cried over the telephone, my mom keep calling me thousand times in a day, only to make sure I am okay. So, I keep everything by myself, cry over my pillow until I fell asleep. But the bedtime is the hardest time when everything comes up in my mind, all the scenes, the stories, the questions, the unanswered questions, specially. Yes, my mind is trully sadomasochist that left me always tortured by the end of each night.

Oh well, I miss my mom and her jasmine tea, and the love she puts in it.

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Comments
  1. helenerea says:

    Interesting blog. Personal and touchy!

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