What is something that felt so close yet so far away during your childhood?
For me, it was tea.
In my family, drinking tea was ayb—off-limits for children, a privilege reserved for adults.
But the curiosity was always there, brewing quietly in the background.
Tea wasn’t just a drink; it was a symbol of “something for Adults Only”. When served in delicate Turkish cups with intricate gold lining, alongside maamoul, homemade cookies, or, my favorite; petit four., tea was a dream to many children like me.
https://everylittlecrumb.com/maamoul/
I still remember the day at Hajji Shadia’s house when I was finally asked,
“Do you want tea?”
My heart raced with excitement and confusion.
I had always been taught to express myself, but tea was the red line—
I moved my eyeballs to the right searching for my mom, and with just a look—a slight raise of her eyebrows, the familiar bite of her bottom lip—she silently said what every Arab child knows:
"Nope. Ayb."
I don’t remember when I finally had my first sip of tea, Turkish-style, in one of those gold-lined cups. Maybe it was in my early teens, or perhaps later, but I remember now that tea became more than just a drink for me.
Today, my husband and I share a cup of tea every evening after dinner. It’s our moment of togetherness, a quiet way of saying "I love you" without needing words. Even when we’re apart, the thought of our tea time is a promise, a moment to look forward to.
As I was reflecting for #maraseelmoments yesterday, it struck me how deeply intertwined tea is with love and connection in my life , I realized how deeply tea creates threads of memories that eventually becomes this common piece of art that we all hang in the back of our mind and in the depths of our souls.
Tea to us, isn’t just a drink—it’s a way to say, "I love you" and "I cherish this time with you." And when we’re not together, it’s a way to say, "I miss you, but we’ll be in this moment again soon."
And even the way we sip tea is intimate, gently blowing on it to cool it down as if we’re sending kisses across the table.
Ah... a whole affair!
Tea to us is also the best morning companion, as we rely on it for the heavy lifting to help us digest food. With a Lebanese manoushi, it feels like the perfect start to the day. It’s not just a drink; it’s a ritual that makes everything feel smoother, and more enjoyable.
In Lebanon, the two-story teapots we inherited from the Turks after their invasion (yes just like other occupiers, they ended up leaving).. have become a staple in Lebanese homes. The bottom pot boils water, while the top pot holds a concentrated brew that’s diluted to taste.
It’s a process, a ritual, and it’s part of what makes tea special. The best part of this invasion is that it has brought family values and big gatherings from the ottoman families to ours and enriched our experiences through these tiny nuggets of love for a shared meal or drink.
But you know what is crazy?
My kids now dip their cookies into my tea, just like I remember my jeddo Abo Nasri (grandfather) doing. He used to sit with his kaake`, dipping it into his tea while watching TV for another news break.
Today, watching my kids do the same, I realize that these small moments are how we keep the past alive. Maybe without knowing it, we’re honoring Jeddo by keeping his tradition alive. Tea has this ability to connect us—not just to the people sitting around the table but to those who came before us.
And you want something really special?
I’ve seen pictures of the farmers in my husband’s village, Borj Rahal, sitting together by the fire. Their teapots, blackened from years of use, sit above the flames as they gather to share tea, stories, and traditional Lebanese songs like Ataba. The tea, brewed slowly, becomes a part of their day, a way to connect with the land. It’s a reminder that even in the hardest of times, something as simple as tea brings them together.
Tea has always been a central part of gatherings, whether in the mountains or along the rivers of Lebanon. No matter where you are, it brings people together. It’s there after meals, during celebrations, or even in quiet moments of reflection.
Today and as I write this piece, I take a sip of a cup of tea that I prepped before to recall the moments it has brought me.
But now I realize that it is just another symbol of love. 
Love that connects us to our homes, our memories, and our silent giggles that we hold dear and near.
It is a reminder that even when apart, there is a special type of togetherness that we experience drinking tea.
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