My savings disappeared quickly, so I returned to work. I worked long shifts at a small grocery store during the day and stayed up late in my kitchen experimenting with herbal tea blends.
Chamomile, mint, orange peel—simple mixtures at first.
A neighbor suggested selling them at the farmers’ market.
So I gave it a try.
The first weekend I earned forty-seven dollars.
A month later it was three hundred.
Slowly, my little project turned into something bigger. I sold tea blends every weekend until my hands trembled with exhaustion.
Within two years, I had an online store. People loved the flavors.
By the time the twins reached middle school, the business had grown far beyond what I ever imagined. There was a warehouse, employees, and deals with coffee shops across the state.
But to the boys, none of that mattered.
To them, I was simply Grandma.
Jeffrey became a thoughtful, quiet reader who loved thick books. George, on the other hand, was loud, warm, and constantly laughing.
At night they sat at the kitchen table while I packed tea orders.
“Grandma,” George would ask, “did Dad like baseball?”
“He loved it,” I’d tell him. “Though he couldn’t throw straight if his life depended on it.”