Tea with Strangers

I know how to sew...mostly square things and straight lines, so I needed a seamstress for a multi-layered party dress. I got the name of one from my husband, who has to wear suits all the time for work. We'll call her Mrs. M. ~I arrived at her humble abode at around 2 p.m. and evidently this was the "tea hour" because when the fitting was finished, she ushered me over to her beautifully set table. This was my first time meeting her and frankly, I felt a little uncomfortable sitting down for tea and chit chat, but she insisted that I stay. Mrs. M was from Iraq and she began describing her childhood that was filled with fear, growing up in a country made of sand and the slight living conditions of her big family. During her thickly accented storytelling, she traveled back and forth from her kitchen, pouring floral tea and laying out condiments for a light snack. On the table she placed a bowl of walnuts, homemade apricot jam and sugar cubes piled in a small crystal dish. She layed down two very tiny spoons, one in front of each of us. I looked at everything displayed before me and waited for her to bring out some confectionery biscuit or crackers to go with the jam. She didn't and just sat down, still recalling her life history. My mind began to panic as it tried to figure out what I should do first, internally asking myself silly questions, "what is the jam for?...am I supposed to use my fingers?...what do I do with that tiny spoon?" I decided to take a long sip of tea and let Mrs. M guide me with her etiquette. She tucked a sugar cube inside her cheek, I followed. She picked up her spoon and put a dollop of jam on her plate, so did I. She crumbled some walnuts on top of the jam with her bare hands and mixed this simple concoction with the tiny spoon, I copied. Then she scooped up a small portion and daintily put it into her mouth. I mimicked every move, like a child learning a new task. Now I had a sugar cube and jam mixed with walnuts just laying in my mouth. Was I supposed to chew it all together? I was afraid of doing something wrong. I watched Mrs. M continue to hold the sugar cube, which buldged the side of her cheek, while she carefully chewed and swallowed the rest. I tried doing the same and in the process must have made a few faces because she began laughing and called me a silly girl. She continued talking and all the while, I watched the bump in her cheek slowly disappear, as did mine. She told me of her sister's death and the two nephews that she paid $16,000 for, so that they could come to America to be with her. She loved them as her own because she could see her sister in their eyes. Now her children are all grown and gone. She sews for a living out of her home and enjoys having tea with strangers. I smiled, wiped the mist from my eyes and told her that I had to get going. She walked me to the door, thanking me for listening to her stories. I thanked her back and we parted as she closed the door. I sat still in my car, memorizing the exotic treat of meeting Mrs. M. She called me a stranger, but treated me like a treasured friend. I started my car and reluctantly drove away from her house. I should have gone straight home because the visit was unexpectedly long, but instead, drove to the grocery store and bought sugar cubes, walnuts and apricot jam.