I travel from place to place, effortlessly floating from one land to the next…
As I go, I attach myself and form myself to my surroundings; to the people, the buildings, the local fruit vendor, the sweet old church hidden down the road; and I pour out my heart into fragile little tea cups all around the world.
These cups hold my heart so delicately, with much care and caution, keeping the tea warm for me until I one day return to drink it all in again. To drink in the city, the people, sights, sounds, and smells. How is it that I have poured out my heart in so many places? I feel like I will always have pieces of myself missing.
In London, a bit of my heart awaits in a bone white china cup, sitting in a tea house looking all lonely and dejected. People sit properly all about it, sipping on their mid-day brews.
In Amsterdam, it awaits in Winkel 43, sitting next to the world’s best apple pie in a hearty mug with tulips on it. People chat amiably after getting off of work; the mug has a phantom owner.
In Belize, the old metal cup sits knowingly at Nature’s Way Hostel, taking in the sound of the nearby church bells and the salty scent of the sea.
In Florence, the cappuccino glass rests on the wooden bar of the outdoor piazza cafe, trying its best to keep its dear contents warm, to keep the sweet and precious memories alive and well.
In Chile, the old cafe mug holds my heart, by the view of the mill and the fishing market. People hustle about and stare at the cup, wondering when its owner might return, if ever.
And this I wonder: Will there every be a return to these precious places that hold my heart deeply entangled in all that occurred and every experience that swept me off my feet and wholly took my breath away? These experiences leave you gasping for air because you can’t stop belly laughing, and these people humble you to your core and teach you about selfless service.
I don’t have the answer now, and I don’t know if I ever will. Right now I rest in the fact that I have a small brigade of cups holding my heart around the world, guarding them from forgetting, keeping the flavor and scent of it all within.
I hope one day to hold that warm cup in my hands again, but also to pour out more of myself. To increase the brigade, and maybe to touch someone’s life along the way.
