Soup of the Day

In the earlier days of growing up, I was awe-struck by our blurry black and white television. A metallic box of sorts, it balanced on an awkward brass stand with antennae spikes sticking up like a bad hair lick. But it spoke and sang and called to me especially at lunchtime on Saturday afternoons. With a turn of a switch, a giddy smiling man would appear. His cheeks would glow as he announced the menu for the day. His name was Soupy Sales.

Oh, how I hoped it would be a tuna salad sandwich with a steamy bowl of tomato soup and crunchy potato chips. That would make my day.

Time passed, tripping into those awkward years where dresses did not fit right. Pants in high school were forbidden and everyone wore leather shoes that you hid a penny in.

Yes, while walking was okay, the newest item on TV, on billboards and in driveways of my friends was the best thing ever, this was a shiny green two-wheeled bike with silver chrome that glistened in the sunlight. Advertised in the newspaper perched on our kitchen table, I would gulp down my soup and daydream of riding my bike ride up a giant mountain and then flying down the other side with my arms spread, catching the wind.

Then came in the line-up of rock-stars and popular models, introduced by this metal box. I had heard these musicians on oversized radios and hand-held transistor ones. The artist's and models faces were also found on special packs of trading cards for sale in local drug stores. My friends went crazy collecting them all. Not me. Instead, I liked the model, "Twiggy," a very slim young lady who wore fashionable clothes and was frequently seen on TV. I would imagine myself in a salon swivel chair with scissors swiftly cutting my long tresses to look like hers. I would become her face on the trading card.

So many years had passed. Standing close to the stove, my wooden spoon stirs a steamy and flavorful concoction, its herbal scent filling my cozy kitchen. It was lovingly called refrigerator soup. Making it was so simple, just throw in the pot whatever you could grab and hope for the best. This soup would delight my tongue since last week was over the top with broccoli. But today it was loaded with my favorite green beans. Perhaps this overflowing pot might be tasty enough to share with friends.

Indeed, this frugal feast filled my stomach thoroughly during college, graduate studies, professional employment, and during times between jobs. Leaning into the pot, the spicy vapors covered my face. Ladling a heaping portion into a bowl, I grabbed a very large spoon and sat, reflecting on my long walk in the city.

This afternoon there was the most unusual pause in front a formal dress shop window. Memories flitted through my brain like falling leaves; seeing myself years before in a bright yellow prom dress. And now in a shiny white one. Perhaps sometime, I would be standing elegant in that bridal gown, taking on a new life journey. Yes, and on days to come, there would be young children hungrily spooning through the homemade broth of the day.

My soup pot got much bigger.

So much life has been lived. And there is no certainty of what is still yet to come. Yet what I do know is that life is a continued adventure of becoming. The rumble and tumble through each stage of a million questions and things to accomplish. Offering the opportunity to take on brand new attitudes, forthright to embrace fresh territory. And conquering those butterflies swirling my stomach by taking that leap.

We can affirm this adventure and move forward. Yes, there is much to consider and commandeer. The world is a complicated place with any possibilities and choices. Hmm… I dipped my spoon into the veggie soup, calming and settling. Tensions eased, taking in the delightful flavor of the perfect seasoning, its essence warming my hands and heart.

For now, all was right just being in my kitchen.

… “and that’s how I live it.”

Dear readers, please take on this new year with a swing in your step

and a favorite soup spoon in your hand.