Soup Nights

I don’t particularly get homesick.

But we used to play Trouble on the carpeted floor of the family room, wearing crewneck sweatshirts from Gap and socks with the little no-slip grip squares on the bottom. Dad would take his green pawn and tap his way down the board after Mom’s blue one, 1

    2

        3 and send her pawn back to start. Me and Tony would roar with laughter, our shoulders bouncing while Mom plotted revenge. Then the grandfather clock would chime a half a dozen times, and I’d look up at the skylights to a day slipping away. In the last light I could still make out the big oak tree’s branches reaching over the house, swaying gently to wave at me with its orangey red leaves. A handful would fall each time I blinked, sliding gently off the glass of the skylight to land on the yard beneath. I would look to see that they’ve spread across the whole property, creating a sunset of colors atop the grass. They appeared like they’d become the perfect sized heap for the following day, when I would rake up all the oranges and yellows and reds and jump right in. But Mom would pause my daydream, calling my attention instead to the soup resting on the stove. Little orzo pasta, carrots, and chicken broth would warm me from the inside out as Dad would then put on Sunday night football. The voices of the announcers would be happily familiar in my ears, and I’d curl into the coach to watch the Eagles play.

7!

   7.

       Held them to 3… 

        Another 7, really? The Eagles lost last week. Was I surprised? Unfortunately no, but that didn’t dull my disappointment. I sat on the couch in my dorm, pushing a Goldfish around my unfinished Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. None of my roommates were home. I was alone listening to the post-game show describe everything the team missed. My phone beeped and I glanced down, seeing that my dad had responded saying that he was just as disappointed as I was. Then I put down my bowl, deciding to check the weather for the following day. It was supposed to bring the type of afternoon that was chilly but with the sun still shining, and I couldn’t be gladder to see it. The tops of the trees along my path to class were starting to turn red, and finally the weather would match the season. As I gave up on the soup and got ready to turn in for the night, I planned to take a picture of those trees for my mom. Then I remembered that I had taken that old green sweatshirt from my dad, and figured tomorrow would be a great day to wear it.

Winter 2022