Free A Tea Reader by Katrina Avilla Munichiello

office where he received chemo was located about forty-five minutes from my parents’ home. Each treatment lasted four hours and he received it three times a week, one week a month. I decided to take him to the appointments and stay with him. I brought my knitting with me and Dad brought a book, although much of the time he just slept. I was knitting him a sweater for Christmas even though I knew he would probably not get much wear out of it. He asked about the knitting but never realized it was for him.
    One of the joys in my dad’s life was fine food and beverages. This was something we had always shared. We had many of the same tastes; the only big difference was that he was a coffee drinker while I only drank tea. I love the way coffee smells but don’t like the taste. My dad thought tea was a woman’s drink. It was so sad that chemo had changed his tastes for food. I tried to entice him to eat by making some of his favorites. One night I got all the ingredients to make Maryland-style crab cakes. This was somewhat difficult, since landlocked Atlanta is not known for its blue crab. He ate them but I could tell he didn’t really enjoy them. He just had no appetite at all. So I was surprised when he asked for a cup of tea one day while he was receiving chemo. I asked the nurse if she had any tea bags. She didn’t. She also only had paper cups, not really conducive for making hot beverages. So I told my dad I was going to the store and would be back shortly. I bought decaffeinated tea bags because any caffeine kept him up at night and he was having a hard time sleeping anyway; I didn’t want to make it worse. I bought two mugs and hurried back to the office. I made two cups of decaffeinated Lipton tea in the microwave and handed one to my father. He took a sip and sighed with a peaceful look on his face. “Dorothy,” he said, “I never knew tea was so soothing. I’ve really missed out, haven’t I?” We talked and talked over that cup of tea. He talked about how proud he was of me and what I had accomplished so far in my life. He talked about how much he loved his granddaughters, my two girls, and his hopes and dreams for them. I told him how much I loved him and how much I appreciated everything he had done for me. I wouldn’t be who I am without him. I said everything I had wanted to say out loud and I have no regrets about anything left unsaid.
    I was used to drinking loose leaf tea brewed properly in a teapot. I was something of a “tea snob” and wouldn’t normally drink tea bag tea, let alone tea bags obtained from a grocery store. But that tea I shared with my father on that dreary day in a chemotherapy office was the best tea I can remember drinking in my life. It tasted like ambrosia. I know I will never taste anything as sweet ever again.
    That was the last afternoon my father and I spent alone together. He passed away shortly after and some of the light went out of my life. Now, every time I drink tea, I smile and think of my father and that cup we shared. We were not only sharing a beverage, we were finally sharing our feelings, our love, and our hopes and dreams. The memory of sharing tea with my father eases the pain of losing him. My father was right—tea is soothing. It has helped me grieve and it is still helping me heal these many years later. I look forward to sharing another cuppa with my father when we meet again.

THIRD STEEP
    TEA RITUALS

Ceremony and Tradition
    BY K ATRINA Á VILA M UNICHIELLO
    The words “tea” and “ceremony” are frequently intertwined. When they come together, images of tatami mats, kimonos, delicate bamboo whisks, and small cups of matcha leap to mind.
    The Japanese Tea Ceremony is a strikingly beautiful and peaceful experience. It combines reverence for art, nature, tea, and mindfulness with elegance and grace. This experience, also called Chanoyu , is not, however, the only tea ceremony.