Blessing

I tried to pick up the tea kettle
Only to have my fingers scorched by the harsh porcelain.
“I can’t.” I said,
With tears covering the shame in my eyes.

You smiled,
And picked up the kettle yourself
To serve
The tea.

I wondered
Why it didn’t burn you the way it burned me,
No fair.

You continued to smile
While watching me sip my tea;
I was angry with it,
I didn’t get what was so funny.

But now I know,
The kettle was just as hot against your wrinkled fingers.

Just that
You knew I was eager and impatient.