Have Tea with Your Past

by Editor on January 10, 2017

Guest blog written by, Kelly Smith

I woke up early on Sunday morning, to a slight knock at my front door. As I laid in my bed, groggy with sleep still on the forefront of my mind and dreams still lingering in the back, I got up, pulled my robe on tight, and walked downstairs. As I moved through my house, and down to my front door, the knocking continued. When I got to the door, I slightly opened it and peeked my head out to see who it was. I saw my past standing in the doorway. I said nothing. I had a shameful look on my face, as I invited my past inside without exchanging words. We needed to talk, and I knew it. It was time.

I lead my past to the deck, and my past had a seat. I went to the kitchen to prepare tea, for both of us. I filled the tea kettle with the water, turned on the stove, and began to make a tea setting for two. Two tea cups, two spoons, sugar, milk, and a variety of teas because I had no idea which kind of tea my past preferred. I didn’t know how long my past would be visiting, so I didn’t offer any breakfast. I just knew it was time to sit down and enjoy tea. Together.

When the water was hot, and after I answered the whistle, I put our tea on a tray and took it outside. I took a seat next to my past. We sat close. We both had the same view of the still water, also barely awake. I handed my past some tea, took some for myself, and together, with hot tea cups in hand, we sat back looking at the water and enjoying the silence and the sunrise for a just bit. As the sun began to creep up, and the coolness of the early morning air lingered, we started to talk. Before I knew it, our arms were linked together, and we were walking down memory lane. We visited so much. The good, the bad, the necessary, and the not so necessary. We found ourselves laughing. On the verge of crying. Talking seriously and then laughing again. We walked and talked. We looked into the years of my life as if they were windows. I saw mistakes and regrets. I saw happy times and sad times. I saw my amazing kids, friends, and family.

We got nostalgic. We recalled sitting on top of the Ferris Wheel, one Saturday night in December, waiting for other passengers to load the ride. We saw the lights of the decorated park for a holiday. The trees were covered in colorful lights. The oversized ornaments were hanging correctly, to tell a story. The kid’s laughter and parents chatting. Everyone having fun. The train was making its way around the property. The smells, sights, and sounds all coming together to produce an incredible memory. As the ride became full and started going around, and the cold New England air rushed us, we sat closer and embraced it all. Fried dough and hot chocolate were to follow, and they did. We bounced around that park taking pictures, happily finding our way around in a new place. We were fearless with the buds of love growing between us. My past and I were slapped awake with the reminder of our last day together. The name calling. The throwing of objects. The way I felt when it was all over. Seeing the back of his head leaving, for the last time. We talked about the feelings and the memories from those years, in particular. What I would have changed and what I would not have changed. We agreed and disagreed. And then, we moved on.

My past and I have not met in a while. I tend to remember things differently than my past does. I see the good and my past helps me to see the big picture. To help remind me that, yes, there were good times, but there were also bad times. Those bad times are the things to remember as to why things change and life keeps going. My past shows up to remind me of how I got where I am. How long and hard I had to fight to become who I am today. My past reminds me of lessons and love. How love feels, and how it does not feel. My past reminds me of roads traveled, and the roads I still need to walk. I need to walk some roads alone,  but others I can have company along with me. My past reminds me that I can walk alone if I need to, and that’s OK.

So on that early, brisk, Sunday morning, in late October, sitting outside, just before the sun up, I enjoyed tea with my past. My past showed up to remind me that no matter what happens, life goes on and it moves forward. I am always progressing, even when it seems I have been standing still for too long.

Have tea with your past.


Kelly is an up and coming author, living in beautiful Austin, Texas. While being a mom, to 3 amazing boys, she writes of real life; raw and truthful. Along with writing a daily blog, she also writes for the Huffington Post and Elephant Journal.

web address www.thoughtsbecomingword.wordpress.com

Coming soon: www.thoughtsbecomingwords.com

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My Daughter’s Voice & Wings

by Editor on December 22, 2016

Guest blog written by, Jolene Summer 

So what is our legacy as mothers? What is the lesson that I learned after being a mom for over 11 years?

A while back, I was part of a class outing with the kids and all parents and we walked through an interactive music park. My daughter banged around on some instruments and sang as if she was alone. The other parents looked at me. “I wish my kids were that confident,” I heard from a few. And all I said in return was,”Just don’t stop them!”

In my personal upbringing I felt, as probably many of you, never good enough. Even though I was good in many things, as a person I seemed to never reach the level of worthiness and accomplishment that earned me the badge of being a complete human being.

I learned how to doubt myself, I learned how to be quiet, I learned how to think others know better and I learned how to neglect my own wisdom and voice. I also learned that taking care of others was more important than to care for myself. I learned that neglecting my truth was the rule I had to follow.

So yes, I was a good student. But a lost girl.

Until the pains of my muted truth, the agony of the unhappy student became that much over bearing, in fact, that finally listening and following the inner voice was the only option to stay sane.

True. Waking up was a journey, not one moment and listening wasn’t training a muscle, many muscles, which needed using to become strong and steady. And sometimes, I still suffer by not listening to my own voice, still failing to take care of myself. Nonetheless, the slow waking up to myself and the accomplishment of discovering who I am and what I want, whom I want to follow, and whom I want to agree with, or stand against, is delicious.

The reward to declare I AM ENOUGH was worth the trouble.

And that’s all it ever was, trouble – once I understood my power and my worth.

And so all I think I need to do as a mom is to respect my daughter’s own voice, give her space to express, and listen to her even though her voice is different to mine. The rest is up to her and her immense creative powers that have nothing to do with me. I just don’t ever want to stop her, hold her back, or diminish her voice.

Basically, I help with the roots, and she’ll grow those wings all on her own!

About the author:

Jolene Summer is a German born writer, coach, and teacher who lives in the Australian bush since 2003. She is a dedicated mum to a delightful 11yr old daughter, and reinvents herself every day. Some of her favorite things are trees, organic food, cooking for people, laughter, art, mysticism, freedom, and writing.
Her latest fantasy novel, ‘The Darkling‘, can be read on Inkitt for free.
Some of her coaching and mystic blog posts can be found here: niume


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