Decades ago in early September
our elder hall customs advisors
gathered us first years on the floor
of a dorm hall carpeted in grey-blue.
Hunched over our empty mugs
newly bought from the Book Shop
we eyed the fresh mint leaf tea
steeping in a traditional Moroccan teapot
wafting smells of hope to the homesick
young women — some of us still girls —
who had left everything we knew
for the strange roommates around us.
Our Alma Mater knew well
that tea is a communal prayer
and that a Hall Tea held early semester
while all encircled and cross-legged
drives light into the murky emotions
that arise from having left home
making bold moves off and away
from the comfort of the known
staking our futures on a new reality.
And so are we surprised that today
decades removed and miles away
we both instinctively selected hot tea
as we sat for a Sunday communion?
It was unplanned yet fitting that
as we divulged the brave choices
and impossible decisions that each
accompanied our hard-earned
study guides and crash courses
from the University of Uncoupling.
We sipped our hot beverages
as we took turns describing
our respective departures
from marriages once treasured
that no longer Sparked Joy (TM).
We bonded over indignant recognition
spurred by the time-delayed freedom
that comes with untangling unions
pronouncing time of death on
shared vows, now wrested apart.
For we both know, all too well
of the long, dark, winding path
to one's new self must take
when young children are at stake.
As we drank Earl Grey and spilled tea
we raised eyebrows and shook heads
we exclaimed, "EXACTLY!" often
in recognition of the other's stories
in which we saw ourselves clearly
like a reflection in our shining brews.
We shared our hard learned lessons
and advised of stumbles to avoid.
"It gets better," I state, and I meant it.
"This hard transition will be worth it."
We rose to clear our empty cups
I smiled with direct eyes and cheer:
"Congratulations!" and I meant it
and she grinned back widely
and she meant it.
Bubbling with validation and calm
we both carried our shoulders lighter
buoyed that her path forward now
no longer felt quite so ominous.
The magic of a tea ceremony
never fails to transform us
we left the table springy,
fresh as mint leaves.
We walked our separate ways
leaving sure we can do anything
because we still carry the power
of Sisterhood long ago steeped
like warm tea running through us
giving lifeblood and direction
no matter the new chapter or hurdle
our community holds us, encircled.
