Tea with a Friend

In late afternoon I went visiting on the other side of the city. At the kitchen table, spread with a red-and-white checked cloth, my friend V. made me chai and gave me slices of warm homemade bread, spread thickly with cream cheese and dark, spicy plum chutney. She showed me her photos from India, and the pieces she'd added to her collection of beads and jewelry, and gave me a lovely turquoise and coral pendant I'd asked her to search for. We talked about writing, and finding a home for possessions, and trying to make order out of chaos, and she read me an excerpt from George Herbert, and showed me her seedling clivias in a south window.

At 6:00 pm I bought a lisiere at the De l' Eglise metro stop and headed back east on the train, using the time to meditate a little. When I emerged from the metro in the Plateau a violinist was playing Vivaldi in the snow on the plaza, empty now where Christmas trees had been for sale throughout December, and before that garden-plants and flowers, and, even earlier, the late spring maple sugar. The musician's violin case was open and a few coins had been tossed into it, and they shone against the velvet lining in the light spilling from the station doors. He looked straight at me as I walked by, and his bow stabbed at the dark blue sky.

The snow underfoot was velvety and soft, the sort of snow I remember from rare downhill ski days at remote ski areas and natural snow trails. I walked on the main street for a while, in the crowd of other people heading home, and then turned down a residential street past doorways still hung with wreaths, and balconies draped with lights. It was a beautiful night, just below freezing and without a wind. At the bakery, all the bread had been sold or put away, and replaced by a row of gold paper crowns for Galettes des Rois (Epiphany cakes).

I stopped briefly to gaze in the window, and headed for home.

Comments

[Peter]

The warmth of that tea spreads all the way through this piece.

[maria]

These scenes form your life are such a pleasure to read, because they bring to life not only the place you present, but also, because you take us right into it so that we can share it with you through the senses, not just through sensibility. Thank you for the tea! :)

[kaycie]

I love chai. What strikes me about this is the pleasure you take in every day things.

[carolee]

i see that you live in a magical world. i am envious. and then i know as writers we can find magic. thanks for reminding me i'm not looking hard enough.

[pohanginapete]

Beautifully evocative, Beth. The mention of chai and India brings back powerful memories of a year ago, an utterly different world in which I travelled. And snow... given our recent weather here on the other side of the world, snow and cold should be impossible to imagine, yet the sum of your post does just that.

Possessions — perhaps the trick is knowing who, or what, possesses whom (or what)?

[shannon]

These two consecutive posts are so wonderfully sensuous and present! I felt as if I could taste and smell every last detail. Gorgeous writing...

[Fred Garber]

I am so late commenting. It sounds like you had a great day. Three kings cakes are great. On Epiphany Day my wife and I drove around looking for a Rosca de Reyes(Three Kings sweet bread). All the Hispanic bakeries had them but they too big for just the 2 of us. We did not want any leftovers as we are trying to lose a little weight. We settled for some hot chocolate and gingerbread bagels at a Panera restaurant.