I was making tea when my grandmother stopped in to visit. This was exactly what I was hoping for, because she would be the perfect person to drink tea with and I miss her. She seemed very excited about the teas and examined them happily, commenting in her musical voice on their richness and how lucky I was while I boiled the water. Everything was going wonderfully until I began to cry. Then we both started crying. “I am so glad to see you,” I said. We cried some more and I poured the tea. There was only one cup, you understand. There only ever is.