I like tea. I guess. I prefer fruity or mild ginger tea. That doesn’t mean I’d drink all tea. I’d definitely spit some out.

I cannot call myself a big tea fanatic or expert. I simply came to understand that a hot drink on a cold day feels good. I enjoy how the heat quickly warms my throat and spreads across my chest. I relish how the warmth from the mug make my fingers tingle.

In the few seconds between my lips touching the rim of the mug and pulling away, the world pauses.
Briefly.
Tentatively.

In that pause, my mind has its little what the fuck moments; just before I quickly compose myself again.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking, “Sedem, what on God’s green earth are you doing?” Because the real truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing most days.

Tiny experiments, huh?

With time, I started to see it for what it might have been… a soft place to land. And yes, ginger does wonders for the gut.

I found myself looking forward to my cups of tea, just like I used to look forward to my Saturday morning walks (which I’ve abandoned for a while). Because for all the insanity life can throw at you, something as simple as a mug of hot ginger and honey can ground you; just enough to sit through your what the fuck moments.

So no, it’s not just tea.

Some days it’s tea.
Some days it’s survival.

And I’m still figuring out which is which.