Cauldron of Soup

It started when I was 19, in the after hours of finally meeting and living with my chosen family, when I secretly came out after being pursued by an older woman by her permissively asking for a kiss , and me saying ,”oh what the hell” . As a statement, not a question, I was scared but curiosity has always had a bright light for me and takes me down the path I need to follow, not to gold at the end of the rainbow, but to a pot of soup.

Life started for me in a cauldron of water, the water boiled when my mom found out she was pregnant before she graduated high school , it cooled when everyone was expecting , by the way my mother carried me, high in her womb, a little boy.

Soup follows me throughout my life, like my mom, as a staple meal for single woman trying to feed 2 kids, soup later for becomes a obsession of mine for at least 7 years in one 4 diamond hotel as a young adult without children, wearing a genderless uniform and making taste -perfected soup.

The pot of soup concepts of inviting people over into my cauldron life begins after I get over the fact that people rarely , when swimming will go and try to out right take your life preserver in order to save themselves. If anything, even in crisis, we will talk about it reasonably and maybe share ideas and options . When we ladle from a shared pot of soup in a group setting, we make sure that the ratio of water to meal is balanced, it’s pretty obvious when someone gets greedy and when some one is being pious.

30 years later, life is putting me back in a large circling path again to a huge cauldron, filled with water and a stack of timber set. It’s different from when I had been inviting friends and a secret lover to party that I prepared, I’m asking now for a contribution to this soup making event. And in the end , should taste like something that can never be replicated again.

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