++ the relationship soup ++

The flame shone a saturated cobalt hue and hissed with a steady gas fed exhale. Warmth and aroma radiated from the slick red ceramic pot sitting atop the stove and filled the room with a sense of ease and comfort. Two tungsten bulbs tucked up in the hood lit the gas range and the light spilled out gently into the kitchen. The shadows grew deepest in the corners where the last of the amber light could not reach. A spoon rest held a dripping bamboo utensil. The chef removed the lid from the vessel and prepared to add more ingredients to his concoction.

     The broth of the soup could have been described as “love” but it was really a rich umami respect mixed with admiration and adoration.  10 years of boiling the bones of the relationship and adding life giving water had extracted the marrow nestled deep within and created a full bodied nourishing base in which the other ingredients could mingle and mate.

     With his knife, the chef scooped up generous piles of romance he had prepared and swept them into the steaming pot. He knew there was no such thing as too much romance. The taste was creamy and velvety and gave life to the subtler elements in the soup like sensuality. The romance helped to define the taste of the soup and elevate it to the level of haute cuisine.  It melted languidly into broth and added an oily sheen to the steaming liquid.

     Next the chef added large slices of fun into the elixir. He had cut them from adventure and music and travel. Time spent reading together, long walks on the beach with the dog, swims in the ocean, dinners with friends, movie nights, dancing, shopping, exploring museums and new cities all filled the soup with substance. They were hardy and nourishing and left a taste not easily forgotten on the lips. The soup welcomed all of these ingredients and absorbed them with ease.

     The chef pulled a large canvas satchel of pulverized laughter from the cabinet. He took heaping cups full and dumped them into the soup one by one and when he was finished he dipped the bamboo spoon into the soup to taste. He giggled when the liquid touched his tongue and as he took another swallow he tossed his head back and laughed heartily, holding his belly and buckling at the knees. He had to steady himself on the marble counter and wipe tears from his eyes. Now he was really cooking.

     The process continued. In a stone mortar the chef placed a thick chunk of forgiveness and began to mash it up with his pestle. The scent  was like freshly cut grass that gave way to floral notes. The forgiveness allowed the soup to be consumed repeatedly meal after meal. It kept one from ever tiring of the soup, cleansing the palate and letting new flavors emerge with each taste. He emptied the pestle into the soup and stirred slowly and purposefully.

   Finally the chef took a glass tincture from the shelf. The bottle and the liquid inside were crystal clear and stamped on the outside of the bottle in red ink was a large capital “T”. Using the dropper built into the cap, the chef dripped drops of the valuable liquid into the soup. One, two, three, four, five, six….and on he counted. Without this ingredient the relationship soup was impossible. There were many ways to use all of these ingredients in many recipes but the clear potent liquid when added to the soup acted as an emulsifier, breaking down the fats and the walls separating each one and encouraged them to blend and bind to one another in perpetuity. This clear liquid was trust.

     The chef hung his nose over the pot and inhaled deeply. The aromas were magical. He sipped the liquid from the spoon. The exquisiteness of the meal was readily apparent. His heart raced. His vision was soft and slightly burry. He felt warm and radiant. A smile spread across his face. This was the relationship soup he had desired, a special blend of pleasure and nourishment. He covered the soup again and turned the heat down to a simmer. A knock came at the door.

The End.