Are you missing a friend? A friend who has for one reason or another been steered away from your daily intake. A friend whose call, letter or e-mail rushes all familiarity to the forefront, as if no time has passed. A friend whose distance may be close or far, but whose essence you keep in mind despite time and the daily grind keeping you apart.
I am.
This friend of mine is Busita. I was in my late teens and studying at Suffolk University when I met Bu. A roommate of hers was also a childhood friend of mine, and after this initial connection, we formed a fast bond. I soon learned that our shared quiet/serious/nerdy/shy upfront demeanor was quickly sidelined once our laughter flowed. We had much to laugh about in those days. Frat parties with jumpy Solo cups. Deep crushes turned first loves. An accounting professor who bored us through his last semester of teaching.
Time can be cruel to a friendship. Our bond still holds. Even though nightly phone calls have diminished to an e-mail here and there, we somehow manage to stay abreast of our goings on from afar. We never fault ourselves. We’ve reached an understanding. Seldom communication is better than none at all.
Bu springs to mind each time (truly, every single time) that I see yerba maté. I need not delve deep into the banks of my memory to recover the notion of my first sip of maté, courtesy of Bu. Since that afternoon, a fondness for maté has flourished.
There are days though when I recall the ease with which we could walk up or down the flight of stairs that separated our dorm rooms and share in the larger than life minutia we were living in our first year of college. In those days, not only was I envious of Busita’s figure (curves with an impossibly tapered waist), I was in awe of her family ties to Argentina. Her tales seemed exotic compared to my own of California. One afternoon, she offered a taste of her heritage through a satchel of maté. Only familiar with plain black tea in those days, the maté ceremony she bestowed, amazed me.
She began by packing a hollow gourd with a generous helping of maté. She dug a spot in the maté for the bombilla, a metal straw-like contraption with a filtered bulb at the end. She poured hot water over the maté, allowed it to absorb and sink into a more compact form, before dousing again. When the consistency was sufficient in her bespectacled doe-eyed gaze, the ceremony began. We passed the gourd between us, each draining it of its brew, then refilling for the other. In exploratory haste, I drank quickly, lapping up each drop of the robust and vegetal tonic, until the straw’s filter sounded no more. What came next is what I remember most vividly and fondly.
The laughter. A heaping fit of it. I don’t know if we were discussing anything hilarious. I simply remember feeling a well of energy building inside my abdomen, traveling upward to my throat, and growing with each emptied gourd serving until I couldn’t contain the energy anymore. The memorable burst of laughter lasted for a good amount of time and was contagious.
I often find happiness in a good cup of maté. When Nils and I visited his Papa in Key West, I stowed a tin in my bag with Stevia pellets. Each day I woke to sunshine and waves knocking against his sailboat, cradling in my hands a warm cup of maté. I also store a few bags at work for an afternoon revival cup. I believed that maté was caffeine free. There is an ongoing debate, however, about whether or not it contains caffeine. As I strayed from the scientific path years ago, I’ll mind the news and debate, but for now, will only concern myself with the taste and clear-minded calm that maté shares, caffeinated or not.
My maté of late is Mighty Leaf’s Rainforest Maté Herbal Tea. This green maté mingles with feisty mint and spices, delicate rose petals, cloves, licorice, aniseed, star anise, bits of apple, hunks of pineapple, rose hips and a smidgen of black tea. This herbal infusion colors water a golden yellow. A brew houses the familiar vegetal and woodsy note from Busita’s maté, bordered by mild tannins that hold flavor on my palate. There is much flavor of note—floral, ripe tropical fruits, lemon zest, menthol and anise. Although I have yet to laugh as hard as I did that day, this herbal remedy heightens mindfulness without cognitive overdrive.
Perhaps it’s time for me to pour a cup, sweeten with a dab of honey and reconnect with my friend to share a memory from the good ole days.
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