A short story about soup

It’s been downright cold here lately. How cold?

So cold that our quirky, beloved house here is no match for howling wind and icy blasts from the harbor.

It’s Three Dog Night cold.

Two pairs of socks cold.

Coats and hats in the house cold.

So cold you take a hot shower and then can’t find the willpower to turn it off.

So cold that you put on dance music at regular intervals and dance like crazy. At first this dance is called ‘The Icicle Shuffle’ but you’ll warm up to something like ‘Maniac Moves Now That You’re Thawed Through.’

Too cold to sew, too cold to practice guitar.

So cold that 8:00pm sounds like bedtime; after the warmth of dinner dissipates and you’ve grown gradually colder all you can think about is the (potentially) warm cave of blankets on your bed.

So cold you accidentally leave the soup cooling on the kitchen counter because you’re headed to bed so early and loose ends are everywhere, but they’re all too cold to think about.

So cold you find the soup in the morning and you register a brief dismay, but then…

It’s so cold it’s sure to be okay.

It’s so cold you heat that soup for breakfast…

And you’re right, it’s more than okay.

For a moment, you’re warm.

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2 thoughts on “A short story about soup

  1. Poetry! Sorry you’re so cold! At least it’s winter there…it’s been cold here and it’s supposed to be summer (although I’m sure not as cold as there…55 and rainy here. I’m sitting huddled under a blanket with an extra sweatshirt on as I work on my computer.) Hopefully by the time you guys get back it will be warm here! šŸ™‚

    • Hi Jenny! Don’t you love Faith Shearin’s poem? Yes, the fact that the cold coincides with true winter does help. Does it look like another spring where you’ll have to plant the garden twice?

      Stay warm! xo

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