“Sunday Morning Tea” was the title of a short story I wrote several years ago on this blog, one of the first stories to ever be posted actually.

It was complete and utter trash. Don’t bother looking for it. It has since been deleted in the ongoing purge.

But in that story, I talked about how my mom used to sit on the front porch on Sunday mornings with a warm cup of tea and watch and listen to the neighborhood wake up.

…the birds chirping in the bushes…

…the leaves rustling in the wind…

…the neighbor who overslept on Saturday mowing the grass before church…

…the parishioners dressed in their Sunday best gathering on the front lawn of the tiny Baptist chapel across the street…

She’d sit, listen, and sip.

Sometimes I would join her, and we’d talk about whatever’s been pressing on our minds that week. Or we’d just sit in silence and drink our tea.

Continue reading “Sunday Morning Tea: An Invitation” →