A Cuppa and a Slice

My earliest memory of Nana isn’t of Nana at all. It’s of her kitchen. Bathed in the hay-yellow glow of the summer sun with a cacophony of ladies talking over one another like a gaggle of geese. Cries and laughter along with whispers and shrieks would fill that kitchen with a dull roar that would rise and fall like the waves of an ocean. Quiet moments filled by the gentle tinkling of spoons mindlessly stirring. Ruminating thoughts swirled along until that moment when an ear-piercing kettle whistle would interrupt.

“Another cuppa?” Nana would ask.

‘Yeas’ all around as Nana would top up cups. There would be cake to go with the tea. For what is a cuppa without a slice of cake? Nana would always say.

Standing in the doorway, twirling a stray strand of hair through a child’s dirt-encrusted fingers, I’d inevitably be shooed outside as the conversation level would drop and a serious tone would overtake the room.

“Nana’s congress of ladies” Papa called it.

One snowy February morning, congress was in session.

“I’m getting married!” declared one young woman.

Gasps and joyous shrieks all around.

“Let’s celebrate! Get out the cake!”

“More tea all around for toasts!”

After the clinking of cups, plans for a quilting bee for the wedding night would follow.

“A marriage takes patience and work like the quilt.” Nana would say to a concurring audience.

On a glorious summer day,

“There’s a baby on the way!” announced one to delighted laugher and cries.

Chatter would ensue with pregnancy tips and advice followed by memories of raising babies and children, tales of good and bad experiences and equally good and bad children.

“Children are always a blessing.” Nana would say silencing the room to thoughtful nods.

I found it fascinating. All of it. From behind a child’s innocent eyes with way-too-long bangs, I wondered when my day would come to be invited to join the table. It wasn’t always ‘a congress’ as Papa called it. Often a soft knock at the door would follow shortly after the ring of the telephone. A visitor would arrive, tissue in had stifling sobs.

One time it was “Edward left me.” another time “Joe has cancer.” various guests would come to lament.

“Kettle is on” Nanna would always offer embracing her latest visitor in warm arms, “let’s get that cuppa and maybe a slice.”

I would be quietly scooted away yet again.

“Nana, what do you and the ladies talk about?” I asked one day, my chin laid upon the counter watching Nana whisk the chocolate batter to a delectable froth. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains to cast a magical sparkling effect that played across her face.

Nana would smile pouring batter to pan, “Everything and nothing at all.”

“But Nana, that’s not something.”

Another smile while closing the oven door on the cake, placing the bowl before me to lick clean.

Today was different. I had thought as I looked at the chocolate encrusted bowl without touching it.

Nana simply raised an eyebrow. Taking away the bowl, she poured me my first ‘cuppa.’

Looking back it was more milk and honey than tea that we sipped as we sat and chittered about school and friends. The oven dinged and the cake pulled out to cool. Another cuppa poured and the conversation veered first to the latest town news then boys. Nana got up to cut us both generous slices of chocolate cake, and of course another cuppa tea. A new warmth overtook the room. Somewhere in that magical afternoon a shift had occurred. I just hadn’t realized it yet.

And then one day IT happened. Congress was in session. The rise and fall of the conversation had hit a lull. Nana looked over to where I stood in the doorway.

“Come on then.” She’d said, pouring me my first ‘cuppa’ with the congress.

The women all beamed in my direction and the discussion began anew. Men, husbands, boys. Romance, cheating and lies. Cooking successes and hilarious fails. Passions lost and found.

“Life is fleeting.” Nana would proffer, “never wait to follow your heart.”

Silent nods all around. There was no topic left untouched. Nothing was banned. A code of ethics almost seemed to envelope the group. Advice and support shared here would go no further. Faces would come and go. Nana’s sage observations seemed to invoke pensive thought for the group and mark a topic as closed for the time being.

One fine fall day it was my turn to steer the talkfest!

“Johhny asked me to the dance!” I’d blurted excitedly about the boy I’d been secretly admiring.

“Tell us all about him,” the ladies goaded.

“Does he carry your books?”

“Does he hold the door for you?”

“A good man will always go out of his way to make you feel special.” Nanna would state.

Before long Johnny and I were a thing. Going everywhere together. He held doors for me, we would go out for coffee, to parties, and to the movies together. Congress continued in my absence while I explored life as part of a couple. Just as suddenly as it began, it was over. It felt it seemed my life was as well.

As the December snow billowed outside, I curled further under my bedding where no one could touch me. Days passed, and still I stayed in my cocoon. Nana came looking for me, drawing the covers aside and gently pulling me out of my languid stupor.

“Come dear. A cuppa is already poured.”

At the table, she placed a slice of chocolate cake in front of me. My favorite.

Today was different. I had thought. Nothing could compel me to eat it.

“We can talk or just sit” Nana offered.

The tears finally rolled and Nana pulled me in her arms for a hug, “This just means something better is waiting for you.”

The days of congress continued. Members came and went. The regular faces never strayed. My two best friends were now part of the club sharing in the confabulations of daily life, laughter and loss.

On an early spring day the phone had rang. Answering, Nana looked my way “It’s for you.”

My dearest friend Nina was on the line, “I’m pregnant” she sobbed hysterically.

“Come on over,” I offered. “I’ll put on the kettle for a cuppa.”

I took her in a warm embrace as she arrived. We sat in silence as the tears flowed.

“You’re stronger than you think,” I’d said meaningfully, “Children are always a blessing.”

Out of the corner of my eye that day, I swear I saw a tear in the corner of Nana’s eye betray her soft smile as she topped up our tea.

Shortly after, congress was in session again on a beautiful pre-summer day.

“I got in!” I’d shouted excitedly, “I’m going to college!”

Whoops and hollers rang out along with the clinks of fine china raised in toast of the news. I’d been the last of younger faces to announce the next years plans.

Spirited discussions on future opportunities, the excitement of starting a life in the city, of studies and courses to explore with a side of dreams filled the room.

“A career was never an option in my day.” Nana’s oldest friend Millie offered.

“Explore all your options dear. Take the path less travelled and all that.” Offered another.

Laughter, exuberance and warmth filled the room as more cake and tea were shared.

Then it was Nana’s turn. Looking me directly in the eye “Relish this moment.” She said and paused, “This too shall pass.”

A stillness followed pensive heads bobbing agreement.

“Here, here.” a soft voice added.

Time and life moved on, as it invariably does. I went off to school, made new friends, started work, a marriage and a house of my own. Sure, I attended congress from time to time whenever I returned home for summers or holidays. With each visit, Nana had a few more wrinkles and a little more slope to her spine. Nana was still always ready with her sage advice and a warm kitchen at the ready to host congress or a simple cuppa for two. Until that day. That phone call.

“Time to come home for a cuppa.” My Nana’s friend Millie had said.

Standing here in Nana’s kitchen doorway listening to the rise and fall of a melancholic discord a realization strikes.

I’ve missed this.

Silence, soft sniffles and nose blowing mingled with the gentle clinking of spoons idly stirring milk and sugar around cups. Gentle pats on shoulders and quick embraces of comfort before me. Millie spots me in the doorway and walks over taking me in her arms.

“Your Nana wanted me to give you this this.” Millie said softly breaking away and handing me a folded piece of paper.

Gingerly I open and in Nana’s shaky handwritten scrawl I read,

Always take time for a cuppa. Those are the moments that matter.

“It’s where all life’s problems are sorted, good times celebrated and living shared”. Millie offered squeezing my hand.