Category: Journeys

“My mother has a favorite child & she told me so. She said all mother’s do. Their answer is likely the same as hers. Her favorite child, she said, is always the child she is spending time with at that moment, the one she is present with now. And on that day her favorite child was me.”

Momma loved soup, loved making soup, loved eating soup and she loved sharing soup.

Springhouse Court, a gathering place. The light is streaming into the kitchen from the sliding glass doors. Those doors nearly make up the entire wall on that side of the room. The wallpaper is a yellow checked pattern and covers the lower half of one wall. Momma is in the kitchen. Prepping ingredients for a soup. You don’t see Momma in the kitchen much. Not since we moved to this new place. Not now that the kitchen is so much smaller than the gathering place she had before. Not now that she works for the phone company. The fact that she works there leans more to the reason you don’t find her in the kitchen often. But she still loves to make soups and soup is what I’ve always found to be the most comforting food of all.

When I walk into the kitchen I hear the familiar sounds of my mother preparing a meal. Oil sizzling in the soup pot. Water running in the sink, she reaches to turn it off. The soft thud of the knife as it strikes the cutting board. She cuts the beef into cubes. Vegetables in every stage of prep line the sink and countertop. Mother’s making beef soup today. Specifically, beef and vegetable soup. Rolling the beef cubes in the seasoned flour she asks, “Suzy, will you please bring me those onions? I am about to get ahead of myself over here and I don’t want to forget the onions.” I bring the diced onions to her and smile. Mother uses that phrase ‘get ahead of myself’ or ‘get ahead of yourself’ a lot and a comical image of just that always goes through my mind. The image makes me smile.

In hurried preparation. Mother is moving from sink, to stove, to fridge, back to cutting board. Her smile lights up her face and those brown eyes smile at you too.

And she asks …“Suzy, do you know What?” She asks this same question to all her children and grandchildren. She always says your name before the question.  My reply- always  the same. And her answer never fails and you know the answer but you never let on. You never let on because you want to hear it, and just as importantly- you know she wants to answer it-so you say “No momma, What?’ And she answers, “I love you. That’s What.” 

“I love you too Momma.”

Next to the wall phone, hanging on the same wall as the yellow checked wallpaper, is a framed cross stitched handwork sampler. In her stitches it declares ‘Good Cooks Never Lack Friends’. 

The light streaming into the room is interrupted, flickering. Clouds move across the sun’s path. I look to the sliding doors. The doors lead out to the front patio with a small picnic table and just on the other side of the patio is the ornamental peach tree that she planted with my father so many years ago.

Still today, I find one of the best things about memories and Sunday’s soup is you can fill yourself up with their loving goodness and warmth again on Monday.

“A Mother is Always The Beginning. She is How Things Begin.” -unknown

Be Well. Stay Safe. Much Love. 
Story & Photos: © 2021 Molly Cox