A Drop of Tea for Every Smile

   Dozens of glass teacups in their matching saucers lined the shelves of Grandma's china cabinet. Naomi stared, her elbows on the tabletop and her chin resting in her hands.
   “Why do you have so many teacups? You don't even use them all."
   Grandma turned with a little smile. In one hand she held a dusting cloth while the other gingerly fingered one of her prized cups.
   “Well, love, they're my memories. Some of them anyways.”
   “Memories?”
   Grandma chuckled. “If I had a drop of tea for every smile these cups have shared with me, then every one would be overflowing.”
   “Since when did teacups turn into memories, or smiles for that matter?” Naomi teased.
   “Let me show you.”
Grandma placed the glass cup back in its saucer. Her gaze scanned the shelf of cups, finally picking on from the collection. Tiny pink roses were painted around the rim, with several petals dropping to the base of the cup on curling vines.
   “This one was my my grandmother's, and her mother's before that... and then an aunt's I think. I'm not really certain how long it has been in the family, but rumor has it that it came over to America on a ship from England just before the revolution. Story goes that it once decorated the Queen's table.”
   Naomi stared and Grandma winked. “Maybe not, but you never know.”
   She pulled another one from the shelf, this one rimmed with a shiny gold band and painted teal ribbon. “My father bought this one at an auction for my mother. She drank her coffee from it every morning. Several years later, she found out that it was an antique worth nearly fifty dollars.”
   “And she didn't sell it?” 
   “She always said she loved it too much to sell. That, or she didn't want to sell because the antique dealer was an old grade-school rival who used to be sweet on my father.” Grandma shrugged. “I'm not sure which.” Naomi gaped.
   She pulled a third one down. This one was the same white glass as the other two, but with silver flowers engraved into the surface. “Your mother gave me this one.”
   “She did?”
   “Yes. It was to replace another that was... broken.” Grandma smiled and shook her head. “Once, in a hasty flare of her temper, she slammed the front door and accidently broke a teacup. It toppled right off the shelf and shattered into a hundred pieces. Imagine my surprise when another exactly like it showed up several weeks later. Your mother had bought it with her own money as a gift. A way to apologize for the one that had been lost.”
   Grandma placed the cup back in its place and slowly continued dusting. Naomi's gaze once more darted over the teacups. She stood from the three-legged stool she had been resting on and walked to the cupboard.
   “This one is sort of... plain,” she muttered, fingering a blue tin cup. Grandma paused, then sighed and smiled wistfully.
   “It's one of my favorites.”
   “Why?” Naomi looked down at her grandmother. She felt shorter then the last time Naomi had visited. Or perhaps Naomi had gotten taller. Either way, it felt strange to look down on someone who had always felt so much bigger than her in life.
   “It was years ago,” Grandma began, “when we had just set out into the world of farming. There was a drought that year and every day was spent hoping for rain and anxiously watching the crops. Your grandpa was always very frugal in everything he bought and that year we were even more so. At our previous home, I had planted one of the finest flower beds in the community. It was my pride and joy. Once we moved to the country, I was anxious to start another one. But weeks went by, and in the busyness of our new life I forgot. It wasn't such a horrible loss, but I did miss it.
   “Then one day I came home from running an errand. On the porch sat this little cup, filled to the top with hundreds of different seeds. I knew flower seeds like the back of my hand and was elated with the small gift. I planted every one carefully and watched as they popped out of the ground, turning our yard into the most beautiful sight.”
   Grandma paused, her eyes hazy and her smile faint as she remembered. “I guess I always assumed that it was one of the neighbor ladies that brought it over. Then one day, the neighbor told me about how my husband had showed up at the local nursery early in the spring. There had been a bin of wildflower seeds out for sale and he had filled that tin cup to the top, paying five dollars for the lot. It was such a tiny thing, but I burst into tears. Just knowing that he had remembered my little desire, my little wants amid all our trials, was the dearest thing to my heart.
   “I ran all the way home from the neighbor's and found him in the barn. I knocked his hat off with my excited hug and thanked him so many times.”
   “What did he say?” Naomi laughed.
   “'Anything for you, love.'” Grandma chuckled. She stroked a finger over the rim of the cup.
   Naomi smiled. “It is a lovely cup.”
    Grandma's eyes sparkled. “I've always thought so too.”
   She looked up from admiring the collection and tossed aside her dusting rag. Brushing her hands over her checked apron, Grandma smiled at Naomi.  “Would you like a cup of tea?”
   Naomi giggled. “I was just about to ask."