My brother was here visiting from the UK last week. It’s funny how with family, no matter how long you’ve been apart, you just fall back into familiar rituals.
I picked him up from the airport and as he walked into my apartment, still slightly breathless from lugging his suitcase, he hadn’t even put it down yet before he said ‘You putting the kettle on, Our Kid?’ (Our Kid being an affectionate term for your sibling in the North of England).
And just like that, we drop back into it. Before we can have a catch up, before we can settle in, before we can really relax…we must have tea.
I know we love to joke about us British people and our obsession with tea, but you have to understand - it’s deeper than that.
Tea for us is ritual, connection, comfort.
The bonds that are formed while huddled in the kitchen, voices slightly raised over the sound of a boiling kettle, are the bat signals that you’re home, you’re safe, you belong.
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