Raindrops In My Tea

Whenever I think of a title for a future post, I drop it down into the memo app on my mobile phone.

I came across this one, “Raindrops In My Tea” and despite knowing where I was when I wrote it down, and who I was with at the time, I cannot remember the context at all.

Perhaps it was a pique of despondency as we sat outside with a cup of tea and slice of cake, with my brother and sister-in-law, overlooking the cliffs and the sea of a local beauty spot.

The raindrops in my tea, signaled heavy rain and we all rushed with our drinks to stand with strangers under a canopy, as the raindrops fell heavily with a splash into my cup of tea.

Perhaps the churn on the surface of my drink appealed to my current state of anxiety and sense of foreboding in that moment of what was still to come.

A yearning, deep within, which had come to the surface, like the tea displaced by the splash of the rainwater, to momentarily leave its haven only to fall back again into the deep darkness of the depths of the cup.

But that moment of freedom is an opportunity to grow; an opportunity to breath free; an opportunity to feel weightless, and perhaps the rebound from re-entry will lift me higher to a point at which I can land outside the confines of the cup.

Rainwater in my tea speaks to me now of the potential to be free, despite the desolation of the circumstances.

Rainwater in my tea reminds me of the liberating effects of a tear cried out onto my face, akin to the splash into my cup.

My next blog will be: Summer Break

William Defoe

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