I took a sip of tea this morning and it reminded me of tea with my Nana. I don’t know what it was about this tea. I have had it before. Today it tasted like her house. Which again is interesting because most of my memories of Nana’s house are wrapped up in Tang, a sweet drink I only ever in my lifetime drank there. Nana was of British heritage though and tea was definitely a part of her life. She had the only china sets I ever saw as a child. Lined up in the cupboard, each cup on it’s saucer. She also had sugar cubes with silver pinchers to remove them from their round ceramic bowl. The sugar cubes stood next to the milk saucer, which didn’t always have chilled milk in it. This is the sweetness of memory, how it finds you in a cup of tea, and takes you to a time and person no longer in the physical world.