Chicken Soup for the Soul

My forehead is feeling flush and my instincts are to head into the kitchen and assess the inventory in the pantry and the fridge.

Opening the pantry door I move items side-to-side hoping the movement will reveal the ingredients I am looking for. I locate the container containing my liquid base and move it to, what I am hoping will be, a mound of ingredients on the kitchen counter.

Peering into the fridge I see long bright orange stalks peeking from the back of the vegetable drawer along with their leafy green companion and its tear-jerking cousin. At this point it is becoming hard to tell if the excitement of avoiding a run to the store is overcoming me or if my immune system just took a losing punch from a foreign invader.

I decide not to think to long and hard about it and I start to load the tiny little pieces of green, white, and orange into the giant pot. Feeling accomplished, I fill a glass with ice cold water and tuck myself into bed.

When I come to, the smell taking over the house is undeniable.


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