The most widely known fact about my dad is his lifelong love of tea. The fact that you still can’t buy proper tea (the kind he grew up with in New Zealand) in the USA is a disappointment to him. Even on a 102 degree summer day, you can count on dad to have his morning and evening cuppa — hot, never iced.
Growing up, I never liked tea. Didn’t want anything to do with it. While I prepared breakfast this morning, I wondered when tea had become such an important part of my morning routine. Somehow, in the last year, my fondness for coffee has morphed into a love of tea. Perhaps it can be explained by a desire to expand my horizons in as many ways as possible.
Dad and I don’t have a lot in common, even when it comes to tea. Dad prefers regular black tea, while I have an entire shelf dedicated to different herbal and spiced flavors. He likes his with milk and sugar, I like mine straight. At least we can now agree on a morning ritual.
Maybe the daily mug just runs in my blood.
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