I remember the last time I had a hot cup of Bush tea. I was seated by the window, on a cold rainy Saturday. I was staring out as the raindrops tapped the window. The steam from my tea swirled above the mug and stuck to the window, blocking my view from the world beyond the glass. My small fingers were wrapped around the mug. I closed my eyes as I took long slow sips, the sweet taste of ‘boss tea’ overwhelming my taste buds. The supernatural scent of my grandma’s favourite tea was fulfilling. I felt satisfied and warm.