My father didn’t like tea. He was a staunch whiskey drinker and believed that anything with water in it polluted his alcohol system.
He wasn’t a great man, but he did some great things in his life. He wasn’t a good father. A product of the Vietnam War, bad parenting, and a very different time, he had a hard time settling down in one place. Still, he was my father, and I loved him dearly.
I lost him to cancer many years ago.
Spirit Echo was the name of the street he lived on in Wyoming. He lived on remote acreage, out in the middle of nowhere, and he loved it. After he died, we spread his ashes there. It was one of his only wishes.
I often hear his spirit echoing—quiet words of comfort during difficult moments. When I sit and drink my tea, I sometimes listen to my own thoughts and imagine what he might say. That feeling stayed with me.
I decided to name this tea adventure after the street where he lived. In some ways, Tsia, the mascot, is a quiet representation of my father. Spirit Echo Tea is a small ritual of reflection, memory, and quiet moments—something he never drank, but something I carry with me.