This antiquated piece bears the marks of time, with handles that wobble precariously, just barely keeping the entire structure intact. It has a weathered aesthetic, chronicling years of use.My mother often creates potions that carry the aroma of fresh herbs or cinnamon, wafting through the house and adding an olfactory dimension to its history.In Turkey, tea is more than a beverage; it is a cultural cornerstone, bringing people together in shared moments of connection. Even after immigrating to the United States, my mother still manages to bring a piece of her home with her to share with others. Immigrating can be a very lonely experience, and my mother was the only one in her family to leave behind everything and make a life for herself.Her love for tea has soothed the ache of being far from everything she had known growing up.The kettle links me to my roots as a second generation heir and provides a tangible connection to my heritage and my mother. After my mother slaved for her citizenship, she began to venture back and forth heavily for business and family affairs.In her absence, the kettle, symbolic of her presence, sits dormant on the back burner.Its purpose is reignited the moment the flame is lit beneath it.Making tea becomes a way to bridge the physical distance and conjure her spirit into the room. Whether she's at work, or across the country, the tea kettle becomes a conduit for connection, a comforting routine that encapsulates the essence of home and our family.

– Enya Pyle

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant