Gina sat on a small wooden stool by the kitchen door. Lost in the pool of her thoughts, she stared blankly at the pot of soup cooking in front of her. The soup was her late husband's recipe, and even though he was a bad cook, that's one thing he seemed to have mastered to perfection. Gina and her husband, Paul, while he was alive, had so much fun cooking together because Paul would never cook alone.
During cook time, Paul would usually make a mess and smear some palm oil on Gina's clothing, knowing how much of a clean freak Gina was. He would prevent her from changing and rub some palm oil on his face too, making silly expressions. Gina would laugh so hard, and Paul would steal a kiss. It was a beautiful moment, but as Gina stared blankly at the pot brewing on the fire, it just seemed like a hollow reminder of what she had lost.
"Mom, again? You're crying. What's wrong this time?" Gina's daughter, Jane, questioned, walking into the kitchen and dropping off her phone on the kitchen island.
Gina sighed. "I don't know, I just feel really empty. I guess it's the soup."
"Dad's soup?" Jane inquired with a furrowed brow
"Yeah, your dad's. It's all I have left of him, and sitting here watching the soup cook just takes me back, you know?" Gina chuckled lightly as she wiped the string of fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
Nodding sympathetically, Jane moved closer to her mom and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's hard, Mom, I miss him too, but we have to let go eventually, right? I mean, Dad would want us to be happy."
Gina held her daughter's hand on her shoulder and looked up, with tears in her eyes. "You don't understand, Jane. This soup... it's all I have left of your father. It's the last memory I have of us bonding together, cooking together, of us being happy, and not him lying on his sickbed battling cancer."
Gina burst into tears, and Jane quickly squatted facing her, wiping the tears off her face. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't realize how deep it was for you."
Without uttering a word, Gina took a deep breath and excused herself to stir the soup. "It's okay. God knows best," Gina concluded, flashing a weak smile that barely exposed her dentition.
She continued stirring the soup, and as she stirred, memories began to rush back. Memories of how Paul would always tease about being the best cook in the world after his mother, who taught him the family soup recipe. She remembered the time she cooked, and Paul stole a piece of meat, causing her to chase him around the house. She remembered the day she chased him to the point that he fell. Thinking it was a prank, she jumped on him, tickling, laughing, and kissing him for a response, but she got none.
She remembered how she screamed for help calling 911, and her children. As she stirred, she remembered Paul's last days, where she brought him the soup and fed him, assuring him it was just a phase, and he would pull through. She remembered the phone call and how she drove barefooted in her nightwear to the hospital. She remembered Paul's room being cleaned, and his bed empty. At that moment, she screamed her loudest, her eyes welled up with tears, as it dawned on her that she wasn't just making soup, she was holding on to her past.
While Jane tried to console her and keep her away from the pot so she wouldn't get burnt, the doorbell rang, breaking the moment. Jane pleaded with her mother to stay put and went to answer the door. As she looked through the peephole, she saw a tall, well-suited dark ebony man standing in the doorway with a petite light-skinned lady dressed in a green flare gown, her hair packed in a bun.
Jane quickly rushed back to the kitchen to inform her mother that Tai was home. She got back to the door to let them in and welcomed them with a smile.
"Hey, little sis! What's up, and how have you been treating my mother?" Tai questioned, giving Jane a big hug.
He continued, "Oh, where are my manners? Jane, this is Tessa, our soon-to-be wife, and Tessa, this is Jane, my one true love," Tai introduced, and both ladies said hello.
Jane led them to the kitchen, but Gina met them halfway, smiling from ear to ear, stretching forth her hands to hug her son. Jane's eyes narrowed. "Wasn't Mom just having a mental breakdown? What's going on?" she wondered.
As both mother and son had their moment, Tai couldn't help but notice Gina's eye bags and red, swollen eyes. "Mom, you've been crying."
Hitting Tai's arm, Gina fired, "Who attends a funeral online?"
"I told you, Mom, the situation was out of my control. You think I'd intentionally miss my own father's funeral? That man is my life," Tai defended, but Gina wasn't having it. She walked back to the kitchen, complaining bitterly about how Tai feels it's all about working to earn and never being available.
Gina was so caught up in the pool of her nagging that she barely noticed Tessa. To lighten the mood, Jane led Tessa to the sitting room for some bonding, while Tai walked behind his mother, trying hard to calm her down.
As he spoke, Gina just kept handing him china and silverwares to set the dining table. After setting the table, Gina was still pacing around the kitchen when Tai stopped her halfway and apologized.
"I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, Mom. I know Jane and I are all you've got now, and I will never abandon you both. I'm here now, and we will overcome these trying times together."
At this point, Gina gave Tai a tight hug. He's a spitting image of his father, and having him around seemed soothing to her nerves.
"Help me in the kitchen, would you?" Gina requested.
"Sure, Mom, what would you have me do?" Tai inquired.
"Okay, the wares are all set; now, let's dish some soup, and you take the cornbread out of the oven." Gina instructed.
"Wait! Don't tell me you made Dad's bean soup?" Tai's eyes widened with excitement as he watched Gina nod yes. His joy knew no bounds as his late father's bean soup paired with cornbread and stuffed turkey was his favorite.
"Wait, Mom, did you forget the turkey?" Tai questioned after opening the oven and not seeing any Turkey.
"Of course not; I decided to do something different with your father's recipe. I shredded the turkey in."
"Oh no, you didn't, Mom."
"Yes, I did." Gina laughed as she got done dishing the soup and brought it to the table.
The table was set, and the aroma soon brought Jane and Tessa around. It was at that point Gina noticed Tessa. She kept staring at her, causing her to fidget and keep her face buried on the floor. Both Tai and Jane watched their mother as she assessed an already overwhelmed Tessa.
After getting a good look at her, Gina took her seat and invited them to join in so they could eat. As Tessa tasted the soup, her eyes popped in surprise.
"This is incredible," she said, holding her spoon as she chewed on the not-so-pureed beans. "The flavors are so rich and deep." She added, taking a bite off the cornbread. Gina smiled, feeling a sense of pride. She chimed in, "It's my late husband's recipe."
"That you tweaked," Tai added, murmuring while slurping on the soup.
Tessa looked at Gina with newfound interest and then responsed subtle, "I can see why this soup means a lot to you, ma'am."
"You like beans?" Jane threw at Tessa.
"Oh, she loves beans. Tessa can't go a week without eating beans every day," Tai responded.
"No wonder she resonates with the flavor. Ever had bean soup before?" Gina inquired
"Not exactly, ma'am. Where I come from, beans are made thick, and we have it with fried plantain. But this soup is definitely something I'd love to learn so I can make it for my people when I get home because it's truly amazing, and I can't eat it alone."
"Tessa, is it?" Gina questioned excitedly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'd love to share my recipes with you."
As Gina and Tessa spoke at length about the soup, Gina found herself opening up to Tessa to the astonishment of her children. Gina told Tessa about Paul, about the soup, and about her memories. Tessa listened intently, with her eyes filled with compassion.
The night grew darker and Gina realized that she had discovered someone who understood and listened to her like Paul did. Someone who understood the importance of the soup.
"Thank you," Gina said, smiling at Tessa.
Tessa smiled back and asked, "For what?"
At that moment, Gina's eyes welled up with tears again and she spoke, "For understanding."
Still at the dining table, surrounded by the warm, comforting aroma of the soup, an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment enveloped Gina. She knew that she had found a new beginning with Tessa. A new chance to heal, to love, and to remember.
And although the soup, once a painful reminder of her loss, had become a symbol of hope and new beginnings. As she took a spoonful of the leftover comforting liquid, Gina reaffirmed, knowing that she would always cherish the memories that it held.
Just like aromas, some foods remind us of moments and people. Eating those foods again is not only to remember, it is also to pay homage to those who are gone. Greetings
Thank you for reading me 🙂
Thank you 🙂