OT/OOC

Today I stopped in Wegmans, like I often do before heading off to my Sunday night meeting, for a bottle of something nice and non-alcoholic to drink there. I picked up some green tea with lemon to try and some granola bars. The young man at the checkout kindly asked if I wanted to leave the bottle of coffee milk out, or if I wanted it in the same bag. I said he could bag it, and thanks for asking. He commented on the divergence of this must-be-awful-for-you, lots-of-sugar-and-caffeine milk compared to the delicate and moderately erudite tea and granola. I responded that I did not expect my friends that I was on the way to meet would let me borrow a mug and the microwave and some nice water to make my own tea.

He conjured up a picture of, "But this tea is something that ought to be shared in mugs, feet tucked under on the couch, sharing bits of philosophy and comfort."

I smiled at him. I remember being such an idealist, surrounding myself with friends who all held hand-thrown cups delicately with their fingers, Birkenstocks abandoned on the floor by the sofa, feet tucked under handwoven wools. I felt old and knowing, because those evenings are no longer a luxury I often enjoy any more. Too many of those I know my age are too intent running after little ones, or stressing over their jobs to make time to just sit and discuss philosophy.

I shook my head. "No tea tonight," I informed him. "We're making beer."

I gathered my things and walked off, while he laughed. My friends may not gather much for tea and sympathy, but we get by. We get by.  ¶ 8:00 PM