The Tea Cup
by Harriet Rynberk
My Grandpa David started a Christmas tradition when his six granddaughters were maturing into young ladies. He gave us each a teacup and saucer for Christmas. Each year we knew what we were getting for Christmas from Grandpa. Our collection grew as did our hopes and dreams that someday those cups and saucers would grace our own white linen clad dining tables as we entertained family and friends in style. We knew that there is also something magical about sharing an intimate cup of tea with a friend as we wrestle with the challenges of life. I inherited a silver tea service from my Aunt Cora with the dream that I would someday serve afternoon tea to my friends and neighbours in the style of the lords and ladies of England, the land from which our ancestors came. How regal!
But, alas, it was not to be. It has remained just a dream. Our lifestyle has demanded that we be efficient, be practical, be productive and hence, hustle and bustle pervades our lives. Rarely do we sit down and truly savour our big huge North American mug full of strong coffee (mine is black, yours is likely a double double), certainly not anything resembling the style of any lord or lady! Times have changed, our culture has changed, our expectations have changed and so has everything else in order to accommodate those changes. Yes, our dreams of marriage and children became reality. But the genteel lifestyle was replaced with the need to survive the demands of our own expectations of comfort. But let me confess: I have so many coffee mugs that I am actually relieved when one breaks! Heaven forbid that any teacup should break, however!
Grandpa’s teacups continue to grace my china cabinet. I have a penchant for lovely teacups. I always pause in any antique shop or china shop to admire beautiful teacups. My comment is always, “I just love teacups and I don’t know why.” After all, I never actually use them. My desire to buy yet another one is strong and I fight to give in to the temptation. But, sometimes I do! I love, for instance, the two Russian blue and white cups that I purchased several years back. I simply could not resist them! (And of course it helped that I had a career and enough discretionary income that I could afford them.) I do regret however, having left a lovely little cup and saucer in an antique shop in Newfoundland. What a lovely souvenir that would have been.
|5 Minutes of my day December 18, 2014|
Thank you, Cousin Marjorie for posting, just this morning, your picture of the teacup that is identical to mine. I am sorry you are sick with a cold, but I find joy in knowing that you are comforted by that lovely teacup and saucer. And, hence, I find myself, sitting at my own breakfast table this morning, in my sunny window, enjoying my morning cuppa from my Royal Albert bone china teacup, made in England and decorated with Provincial Flowers called Fireweed. I am blessed!
Thank you cousin for this wonderful piece of family history.