Nam Quidam

There were three things that Dandy knew for certain, even when certain had left for the day; when nothing was sure, everything was possible, possibility doesn’t mean responsibility, and with great power comes great responsiveness. For certainly, certain things don’t change.

But what about the tea?

Enough with the tea, Dandy said. I have used four tea leaves today with varying degrees of aroma and still, she won’t talk to me. I have used lavender, honeysuckle, honeycomb, mint, and minuteness – the best aromas – and all it does is steep.

Certainly those are the certain aromas, but what if the problem is the steepness?

Dandy went outside. Outside it was much better. Not always, of course, Dandy thought. Inside is often better because inside everything has its place on the shelves and in the cupboards and on the chairs. The small glass jars are always clearly labeled and the blankets are always cozy and the tea is always steeping. Outside is different, but Dandy is okay with that. The clouds are rolling overhead and there’s a whisper of winter in the air, weaving through the leaves. Winter? Are you there? Dandy asks.

I’m watching the tea steep. Go away.

Winter’s voice is far away and sharp. He is upset that Dandy did not listen to him about studying the steepness. Steepness is often overlooked because things look steeper from far away and people know this. But there are things that are truly steep, even up close. Dandy shuffles through the leaves. He knows about the truly steep, but he is not certain. He did not want to upset winter, and for that he is certainly sorry.

The clouds billowed like steam rising from a kettle and Dandy thought about the tea again. It couldn’t be the steepness because he had learned the steepness from his mother and she was a mathematician. And he was certain that the aromas were the best. Perhaps it was the container? What about the container? Dandy asked.

Winter didn’t answer for a moment. Then his voice came whispering, a single octave lower than the previous.

But I’m the container. You know that I am the best at containing, don’t you? For certain, don’t you?

Dandy shuffled back inside. There were three things he knew for certain and they did not cover containing. Winter was always in charge of containing because he was the expert container. He did not want there to be mistrust because that caused lack of responsiveness which was an abuse of power. Dandy liked to think he was the best responder, but he knew that wasn’t certain. Or else they wouldn’t be having this problem with the tea. Then maybe it’s the sweetener?

But Mother made the sweetener and it was one of her certain things. I say, what about the steeping?

Dandy did not say that steepness was another one of her certain things because that was a secret. Instead, he started making another batch of tea, slightly angled, just in case.

 

-Merav