soup therapy

Yes, I know it is summer. My electric bill refuses to let me forget it. But there is just something about soup.

S, my second oldest, said suddenly, "You should make soup."

Forseeing my possible objections, he immediately set about checking to see if we had all of the necessary ingredients. And in that single moment's pause, I thought, "I really could use a nice bowl of soup."

So now, we sit and wait as the house fills with the aroma.

But I wonder, what is it about homemade soup that has so much healing capacity? It isn't just a physical thing. So many warm, snuggly, comforting memories seem to curl about my body right along with the fragrance of soup.

Is it aromatherapy? Yes.

Is it self-indulgence? Yes.

Is it something that helps chase away a sudden bout of unexplained melancholy? Again, yes.

Is it something which will keep me from asking the deeper questions I am trying to avoid? I doubt it. My life is defined by asking the bigger questions on a regular basis. But it is easier to ask questions when your throat is soothed by the liquid warmth.

Is this a contemplation worth posting? Probably not, but I am going to anyway.