I originally published this story on January 20, 2014, and I’m revisiting it now after it popped up in my mother’s Facebook feed. A decade later, life looks very different, but some things—like my love for tea and the memories of my great-grandmother—haven’t changed. So here it is again, with some updates, of course.

A Cup of Memories

You know, I didn’t come to love tea by chance. Tea has been a lifelong companion, and I have my great-grandmother, Hattie Smith, to thank for that. She was a mystery wrapped in an enigma—sharp-witted, strong, and full of stories that felt like echoes from another world.

She was the oldest person I knew at the time, and as a young child, hearing someone say they were 90 years old was mind-blowing. Yet, she carried herself with an energy that defied time. Long after the rest of us had collapsed from exhaustion, she was still moving, still working, still full of life.

Ask her how she was feeling, and she’d respond with a knowing grin,
“With my hands, Brandon. I feel with my hands.”

She lived in a world so different from mine that it seemed almost unreal. She’d tell me stories of her childhood—how they didn’t have TV, how a radio was a luxury. As a kid who couldn’t imagine life without Nintendo, let alone TV, I was stunned.

And then, there was tea.

Everyone else around me drank coffee, Folgers in your cup was the mantra… but she always had tea. Tea wasn’t just for when you were sick—it was just what you drank. I remember sitting in her kitchen, watching her make tea for the two of us. There was no ceremony, no special occasion, just her pouring a cup like she always did.

I would ride my bike to her house from my other grandmother’s house…just around the corner. I figured, treats were in store no matter which house I was at, so why not visit both. Great Grandma always started with tea. At first, I thought, “Why is she making tea for me? I’m a boy… boys don’t drink tea!”

But with her, tea wasn’t about rules or rituals. It wasn’t about fancy leaves or rare blends. It was simple—hot water, a tea bag, and maybe a little milk and sugar if that’s what you liked. And always, always, a slice of peach cobbler or pound cake.

More than anything, those tea moments were about presence. As the water came to a slow boil on her old gas stove, she would ask about my day, about school, about whether I was behaving. She would remind me how big I had gotten—even if she had seen me just the day before. And before I could leave, she would hug me and kiss my cheek, telling me,
“I need my sugar for the day!”

I didn’t know it then, but those simple tea moments would shape me forever.

Tea, Then and Now

When I first wrote this in 2014, I had just started my journey with Vintage TeaWorks. I was still discovering how much tea had meant to me—how those quiet moments in my great-grandmother’s kitchen had planted a seed that would grow into a lifelong love affair.

Now, life looks different. I no longer own Vintage TeaWorks. My career has taken me into new spaces, new industries, new challenges. But one thing hasn’t changed—I still love tea. I still cherish the ritual. And every time I pour a cup, I still think of her.

Even if the tea in my cup has changed—whether it’s a bold black tea or a delicate oolong—the feeling is the same. A cup of tea still has the power to slow things down. It still holds space for stories, for laughter, for connection, for remembering family.

So today, I’m reminding myself to make time for those moments—to pause, to pour a cup, to be present.

And I invite you to do the same.

Will you take a moment this week to slow down over a cup of tea?

Cheers,
Brandon Ford