Afternoon Tea with Anne Hathaway

By Sarah Wolfe

I know a place. Take a left off the main road then part the evergreens to find the hidden little white gate. Follow the little gray steppingstone path. Bluejays will escort you to the tea party. Sighing winds will bring you summer notes of creamy gardenias. Chattering white rabbits will announce your arrival. Foggy meadows of dreaming purple poppies guide you to me. A white doily clad table dressed in pink China teacups. Stacks of saucers and yellowed well-loved books. Sit down on fat ivory cushions. Feast on fresh strawberry scones and my berried buttermilk biscuits. Take a sip of Earl Grey, and please do spill the tea. After all, I’ve been dying to meet you since I was sixteen. As a fellow woman of the word, I can read between the lines. Think I didn’t notice the signature of such an inventive, feminine mind? Who enchanted your heart at the height  of that one fateful summer? Or was it all a fever dream, where you left this world for another? Here have another tea sandwich—cream cheese and cucumber. At the midnight hour on the twelfth night, did you think that loving a woman might feel more right? When we say your name, scholars say don’t make much ado about nothing. But woman to woman, you’re really quite something. Do you curse his name? Or were you in on it, knowing it was the only way to critical acclaim? I’ve long sat contemplating the patriarchy’s relation to fame. History written by victors is seldom kind. But when I summon the greats, the spirit of Anne Hathaway always has a seat in the secret garden of my mind.

Sarah Wolfe’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in publications including Cathexis Northwest Press, Wingless Dreamer, Winamop, Misfit Magazine, and Synkroniciti. When she is not writing or giving Reiki sessions you can often find her out and about Jersey City in parks, coffee shops, yoga studios, or lost in a really good book.