or is it?

Today is a soup kind of day
dreary, gloomy, rainy
early November

Today is
laziness inducing

Today is a stay inside
get cozy on the couch
and binge-watch TV
kind of day

and now as I’m writing this poem
I search for an image of soup
but I’m vegan
and not having much luck finding
something suitable

soup with sausage or chicken
soup with steak
soup with cheese or sour cream

soup with eggs
soup with shrimp and crab
soup with octopus, for god’s sake!

I never thought it would be
this difficult to find
a simple picture of soup

it’s soup, people!

then finally, success!

yes, the soup pictured above
has a slick layer of oil
floating on top of it

probably olive oil
since it’s “healthy”
I’ll grudgingly let that go

alas, I digress

but here’s the bottom line

should I continue my search
or put this soup poem
on the back burner
take a hot bath
and finish reading The Bell Jar?

Sydney Duke Richey writes from the heart. Inspired by everyday experiences, her poems, haiku, and non-fiction come from a slice of her life.
Sydney lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband. She has two children and two grandchildren.

• Manscaping
• A Chance Meeting

It’s a Soup Kind of Day was originally published in The Haven on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

We Won’t Forget

It was Dan’s 90th birthday celebration. The guests had left, and the house was quiet as he sat at the kitchen table with his granddaughter, Desiree. She was his first grandchild and only granddaughter. Desi had brought out Dan’s high school yearbooks from the bookshelf in the guest bedroom where she was staying.

As they looked through them, page by page, Dan reminisced. He thoughtfully told her about his school days. He was happy that she was interested in his life. As he grew older, he noticed that elderly folks were often ignored. Grandfather and granddaughter together, heads bent over the yearbooks. It was a heartwarming scene as I watched my daughter ask questions and my dad happily told her about his life.

As they pored over the pages, Desiree read aloud some of the comments written by Dan’s classmates, many of them dead now. Dan remembered just about every person. He remembered them in detail, too. He told Desiree stories about school activities as well as outings, dances, and sports activities. He also recited a list of girls he’d dated. Showing her what they’d written in the yearbook and recounting the dates they’d had in great detail.

He had kept in contact with his classmates over the years and shared that information with Desi, too. Grandfather and granddaughter talked well into the night.

I had straightened up the kitchen, then gone to the living room to watch TV with my mom and my husband. Now it was getting late, and time to get ready for bed. It had been a long day, and we were leaving the next morning.

My dad died three years later, one week after his 93rd birthday. The thing that sticks in my mind about this special time he had with my daughter isn’t at all what you’d expect.

As the kitchen grew quiet, I looked over toward the kitchen table.

Looking at Desiree lovingly, my dad closed the yearbook and then spoke with emphasis, “Desiree? There is one thing I want you to always remember about your grandpa….” She looked at him with anticipation as he finished, “I was a player.”

No, Dad. We won’t forget!

Sydney Duke Richey writes from the heart. Inspired by everyday experiences, her poems, haiku, and non-fiction come from a slice of her life.
Sydney lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband. She has two children and two grandchildren.

• I Am My Father’s Daughter
• Becoming the Universe

Dan’s Birthday was originally published in Literally Literary on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.