There's Healing in that Tea

Our most recent tea at Christmas

by Margie Senechal

Starbucks was born in my state. So, of course, I love my coffee. In a two-mile radius, I have three Starbucks, one Dutch Bros, a Black Rock, a Corner Café that serves coffee and bubble tea, and a bagel shop which also serves coffee. I own a Keurig and a frother. This winter I brewed up my own egg nog lattes every morning.

But still, tea holds a special place in my heart. Because tea held my family together and helped heal us. By my family, I mean my mom, me, and my two sisters, Debbie and Wendy. I am the oldest of three. Debbie is two and half years younger (I wonder why we always emphasize the half?) and Wendy is eight years younger.

My dad died almost twelve years ago and while we’re not typical mourners, it did devastate us in different ways. After he died, I came to realize that Dad was the glue that held us together. He was the one who’d cook a pot of beans, trough of spaghetti, or burgers on the grill and call all of us home. We’d have a family dinner, us girls cleaning the kitchen (by us girls I mean me and Wendy), and then we’d sit at the table and play games. Dad never joined in on the games, but I think he just liked having us all home and hearing our chatter.

Mom wasn’t or isn’t a cook. By any means. So, there were no more impromptu family dinners. Wendy can cook up a storm—she’s a great entertainer and her husband is great host, but their house isn’t “home”. Plus, she lives out in the country (Egypt as Mom likes to call it) and it’s a commitment to go to her house.

Probably our second or third tea

After Dad died, it was hard for Mom to have us altogether without him for birthday celebrations. And then, there was also the chance that Deb and I would have an epic fight. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Since high school, we’d driven each other cra-a-zy. And many family nights ended up with heated words (flame-throwers?) and storming away. Eventually, we’d simmer down to a working truce, but not always. Dad had a way of nipping it in the bud, but without him to referee or you know, threaten us, things deteriated.

About a year after Dad’s death, Wendy heard of a tea house in Ridgefield that had recently opened, Myrtle’s Tea House. We decided to celebrate her birthday—just the four of us—there that year. None of us were tea drinkers, but the idea of cute little sandwiches and desserts was compelling enough to try it out. Plus, we’d be in a neutral area and on our best behavior. For Mom’s sake, if for no other reason.

Paris Tea!

And it worked. Debbie and I got through with nary an angry word. If there was, I’ve long since forgotten. The four of us decided this would be our new birthday tradition. And since most of our birthdays were spread out—January, March, May, and August—it was perfect. We also partook of the Christmas tea the first time it was offered, the Paris Tea (be jealous, Nan. Be very jealous), the Mad Hatter’s Tea, Leprechaun Tea (which doubled as Wendy’s birthday tea that year)…

After about three years of it just being the four of us, Jordan wanted to come so for the Christmas tea, both of my girls (even though Kristen was quite the skeptic), attended the family tea. Now, they are both fixtures at each one. Kristen has even gone on her own (what?!) and introduced a few friends to the joy of Myrtle’s tea. Maybe one day we’ll get Wendy’s boys young men to join us.

t

Tea at Wendy's

Even in Covid shutdown this year, we were still able to have our Christmas tea as Myrtle’s found a way to box it up and then we went to Wendy’s with it where she’d prepared a lavish table for us to enjoy. I told you, she’s quite the entertainer. I’d have to get out my Corelle dishes and you know, take the puzzle off the kitchen table.

I truly believe that the teas made Debbie and I act civilly until it wasn’t an act anymore. And we learned to enjoy each other again. I’m sure there were other things that played into the healing our relationship, but it all began with tea.