Chapter 3.
On Sunday mornings, mother and I would go walking
in the Jarrah forest which surrounded Wattlebird.
As
we ambled along a track, mother would often point out a red robin or a family
of blue wrens to me. She also instructed me on the finer points of becoming
a tea lady. “Patience is a virtue, keep it if you can. Found seldom in a woman,
never in a man.”
So
that now, when I’m jostling my tea trolley up and down the gigantic skyscraper where
I work, and asked a staff member if they would like a cup of tea and they answer
with a distracted, “yep.”
I
gaze out the window, past the freeways, out towards the hills and beyond where
the red robins and blue wrens dwell, and I’m reminded of my mother’s wise
counsel— be patient.
“Milk?”
“Yep.”
“Sugar?”
“Yep.”
And
I, tempted to weep with frustration, give a gracious smile instead, before asking,
“will that be one teaspoon of sugar? or two? or three?”
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