Variations on Home

Yesterday I made chicken vegetable soup to nurse the cold I caught while visiting my son and his family in California. I watched the spinach slowly wilt, the paprika influence the color of the broth. It’s a Cajun soup, heavy in pepper: black, crushed red, cayenne. The soup simmered for a few hours and then when the sun went down, I served it with crackers, Amish butter and homemade fig preserves bought from the church bazaar a few weeks ago. I took a deep breath. Later, I took another deep breath after the final bite of one of Waltha’s famous brownies.  Warm under the blue flowered quilt, I felt ready for a restful sleep.

And this morning I couldn’t resist my walk past the old school, the field, recently harvested. Snaking my way down house lined streets to the creek. Around the harbor, past the town square, past the corner bakery, crossing the creek again. My first autumn in this town. Thefirst cold day, walking.