My Cup Of Tea

Hi, Subfamzzz ♡

I just drank a cup of hot tea and, yep!, life feels beautiful again

And yes, I know it’s a hot Sunday afternoon. A sensible person would’ve reached for chilled water or a glass of juice, but nooo! I’ve been craving it lately, which is also crazy because my body has recently decided it no longer enjoys milk. One small cup, and my stomach will spend the whole evening complaining.

Rrr rrr! Shut up!!!

Because today, I didn’t want to care. After all, it would be my own cup of tea if I ended up in discomfort (pun intended).

So I stood in the kitchen anyway. I made the tea… two bags of Twinings and a little milk. A little more than I probably should have. Then I reached for the jar of honey my mum had bought from a farm a few days ago. Real honey, she had said. And truly, it was.

There were tiny specks of dirt in it, which made it feel so untouched… unfiltered… I even saw a bee leg while stirring my tea. A BEE LEG!!! I mean, I expected myself to feel put off, but I didn’t. Instead, I found myself smiling. It seemed strange to smile at the leg of a bee floating in your tea, but I guess that tiny thing changed the way I saw and tasted the honey… like, so you mean there’s a history to this sweetness…

That somewhere out there, perhaps hundreds of kilometres away, there must have been sunlight spreading itself across the surface of the earth, warming flowers, and one morning those flowers opened themselves to the day without knowing who would visit them.

And then came the bees… Ouu.

I have always known that bees make honey, but knowing something and really thinking deep about it are not the same thing. How many flowers did one bee visit? How many miles did those tiny wings carry that little body? How many times did it leave the hive before returning home? How many thousands of bees were doing the very same thing at the very same time, each one carrying something so small it hardly seemed worth noticing?

None of them knew that one day, maybe months later, someone they would never meet would stir the result of their hard work into a cup of tea.

I’d like to think that people are like that too. I mean, the cycle of life, right?

There’s so much about a person we’ll never know. So much history. Everyday life survives because of people whose names we might never know.

We cross a bridge without thinking about the hands that mixed the concrete beneath it.

We open a book without seeing the years the writer spent doubting every page.

We eat a meal without knowing whose hands planted the seeds and harvested the crops.

We hear a song, but we don’t see the countless nights someone sat alone, crossing out lyrics, searching for the next line. Yet we’re often so quick to condemn the work simply because we don’t like it, forgetting that by the time it reached us, it had already lived an entire life.

So it makes me think about kindness too.

If a bee visits a flower simply because it’s looking for nectar, yet because of that ordinary visit, the flower bears fruit, and somewhere down the line, that same journey becomes honey for strangers… then maybe kindness works like that too.

Maybe the kindest things we do will never reveal their ending to us.

A conversation you barely remember could become someone’s reason for trying again.

A compliment you almost didn’t say could be the first nice thing someone has heard all week.

Feeding someone who’s hungry. Handing a handkerchief to a person trying to hide their tears. Sitting with someone in silence because words aren’t enough. Giving a hug that lingers just long enough to say, “I’m here.”

Tiny things. The sort of things that feel too small to matter. Yet somehow, they are often the things that stay with us the longest.

So yeah, I drank a cup of tea today.

But somewhere between doing that, I realized there are hidden stories to everything. The things we overlook. And why we need to be a little gentler with everything.

Because nothing is ever just what it seems….

Thanks for reading.🌹