Monday, June 3, 2013

I Am Making Soup. I Am Listening To The Day Put Itself To Bed

I'm making soup. I'm taking this day as it comes and I'm walking though it and I stayed with my grandsons and we did a whole lot of cuddling and I'm making soup and it may not be fit to eat because I put two peppers from the garden in that I was not sure of as to heat and my left hand is burning now a little bit and it doesn't even matter. You make soup for therapy, one kind or another.

I was talking to Jason about the news I'd gotten last night and I didn't think Owen was listening. He has a little cold and he seemed to be plugged into a movie he was watching but out of the blue he said, "MerMer, were you sad?"
"Yes," I said. "I was."
"Did you cry?"
"Yes, I did."
"And what did Boppy say?"
"He said it was okay to cry."
"But now you calmed down?"
"Yes. Now I'm calmed down."
"I do that," he said, his eyes going back to the TV. "I cry and then I calm down."
"That's all right," I told him. "That's what we all do."

We cry and we calm down and we cuddle our grandkids and we tell our kids how much we love them and our partners too. Maybe we even tell the wives of our ex-husbands that we love them and we mean it and then we realize what a blessing that is- to have that sort of relationship with the other-mother of our kids and maybe we cry a little more.

And then maybe you go to the store and you buy some outrageously priced organic chicken breasts because you feel guilty these days about the factory raised chicken and you bring them home and you cook them in a broth and you go out to the garden and you pick peppers and green tomatoes and ripe tomatoes that maybe the bugs or the blossom-end rot has gotten to because soup is a food that takes the scraps and makes it good. You cut up squash and the carrot greens from the carrots your friend grew and you peel and slice up some of the garlic he grew while you're at it. You talk to your daughter on the phone while you chop and slice and peel and chop some more, you add it all to the soup, then you talk to your ex-husband.
Your hand begins to burn and you rethink those peppers but too late now, Mamacita. 

Owen was doing that thing today that scares the hell out of me wherein he climbs his parent's headboard and dives off onto the bed like Spider Man and after every dive he would cuddle me and I said, "Oh Owen, I have so much love in my heart for you."
"I have chicken banging poop in my heart for you," he said, hugging me tight.
"Oh Owen, that makes me so happy," I say, thinking, I've got to remember that one. 
And I do.

This is what I feel like today- that I know that my friends are probably walking through this life right now with the blinders and a gray blanket of grief wrapped around them and the only fucking thing I can do is to try and balance out the universe and notice every good thing, find pleasure in every good thing, remember every good thing and let all the rest of it just get on and go.

So that's it. That's been my day.

I just talked to my husband who is out of town. He called me to tell me he made it to his destination safely and that's what you do when you love someone. You let them know you're safe. That's what we all want. We want to know that the ones we love are safe. While we were talking, I shelled peas and added them to the soup too. It's time to get shut the chickens up. I cleaned and filled up their waterers today. That felt like maybe the most important thing I could do today, the most concrete. That and taking care of my boys. That and making soup and using up the carrot greens. That and finding and rescuing a little green frog in my kitchen. That and hugging people I love real tight.

What else is there?
Not a damn thing.

Be well, y'all.
Be well.


  1. Sigh. Hugs. You're awesome, Ms. Moon.

  2. "I do that," he said, his eyes going back to the TV. "I cry and then I calm down."

    Perfect. That boy is perfection.

    WV: Floyd. For real.

  3. Nicol- So are you.

    SJ- Oh honey. Do you remember my story of Floyd? Not Lloyd. Floyd.

  4. Who will Owen grow up to be, I wonder. What a huge heart he will have. What an expansive heart he has right now, in his little body. I am glad he was with you today, and that you could make soup.

  5. Owen is a wise sage hiding in the skin of a young boy. I cried and then calmed down today too. Next time I'm going to make soup instead of mop the floors, though.

    I'm so sorry for the loss of your dear friend's daughter. Children's deaths are so unjust and unfathomable. Lighting a candle is all I would know to do too, after the crying.
    Sending you a hug across the miles.

  6. I love that Owen bent his invisible antennae your way and asked you about crying and calming. That was beautiful.

  7. Your amazing babies, soup and a lit candle = a soothing balm for the soul. Sweet Jo

  8. Owen is a perceptive kid, isn't he? I love the "chicken banging poop" especially.

  9. Yes, it is ok to cry.

    Sweet sweet Owen who used to have his heart full of plain ordinary poop for you but now? Now? It is chicken banging poop. Not just chicken poop, but chicken banging poop. I totally understand what he's saying.

  10. Angella- He was perfect yesterday. I know it was because he has a little cold but still...
    He went to the bank with his mama where Boppy works and he climbed up in his grandfather's lap and hugged him and hugged him. So he was just really a love yesterday.

    Mel- And today I believe I am going to mop. A time for everything, right?

    Elizabeth- Kids can really surprise you, can't they? One never knows what's going on in those little minds.

    Ellen Abbott- We can only do what we can do. It may not be much but if it is ours to do, we should.

    Sweet Jo- A comfort.

    Steve Reed- Me too! His sense of humor is developing and he's definitely in the poop stage. I wonder if he'll ever move out of it. So many people never really do.

    Jill- I know! Chicken banging poop! That's got to be the best, right?

  11. Oh Woman. This made me laugh and cry, in the same sentence I think. The chicken banging poop love. That did me in. I hope it's not selfish to say that your blog is helping me remember how good I got it, and to hold on to that.


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