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an afternoon tea party

5 mei 2011

Like I already wrote somehow somewhere when I was a young man my mother always waited with a pot full of tea to rehearse the learned, to discuss the issues from the journal, to teach me story telling, to tell things from her youth and sometimes to ask me to discuss problems. But any afternoon at three o’clock she has been waiting with the tea. And it has always been a pleasure to me to share the tea and to feel safe. Later in my life I made the tea myself, for breakfast or in the afternoon, but this has never been the same teas. Still later I started to take beers, and like anybody has to understand, beer chases away the taste for tea. Untill now I never or only seldom drink tea, lately with a good aged friend which is a mystery himself to me, and sometimes when I visit my mother, she has ninety-one years of age now, I take a tea but wise as she is she takes then coffee and by that she ruled me up to now. Sometimes I think about my mother in a rather positive but exaggerating sense, but she never pretended to be more then she is: the lady which is the mother of six, for her seven, children, all maried now except me but I have always been another in the family and she knows that and she knows me better then I sometimes know about myself. Let’s say, me and my mother, we understand eachother.

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