When I saw today’s WordPress one-word prompt, “tea,” it triggered some unpleasant memories. You see, I am not a big fan of tea. I blame my mother for that.

Tea was her version of chicken soup. She always made me drink tea whenever I was not feeling well. It didn’t matter if I had a cold, a stomach ache, sprained my ankle, or fell off my bike. Tea, she thought, was the answer to whatever ails you. In her effort to ease my suffering, she forced me to drink tea.

Sure, she would sweeten it up with a spoonful of honey in order to make the unpalatable slightly more palatable. It didn’t help. And to top it off, I don’t ever remember feeling better after drinking tea.

To this day, even the aroma of tea causes me to recall feeling of being sick or injured and having to drink what I now consider to be vile stuff. The association between tea and illness has been imprinted on me like some sort of tattoo that I can’t eradicate.

Thanks a lot, Mom.