{the elm in my front yard today}
{coppery path near the river this afternoon}
I think about soup a lot lately, my most cherished comfort food; this week has been ideal soup weather. Soup makes me think of my grandma, not only because of her borshch-making skills, but because of her mission to keep everyone contented & nourished. She'd always tell me I was far too thin, convinced that I never ate while I was at school (this is sometimes true). When I started university, every visit to her ended with a little bit of hroshej pressed into my palms -- she'd hobble over to her old grey leather purse & find maybe a five or a ten, a pile of coins, and push it into my hand, I'd feel her papery skin as she closed my fingers over the money. "Here," she'd say, "take this, go buy yourself some soup!"
Yesterday we buried my grandma's urn in the cemetery beside her husband, tucked her in under the rain & wet dirt & leaves. It's almost a year since she passed away, well, over ten months. But a year ago Thanksgiving was when she told us she wasn't going to be around much longer, that she missed her mother.
I wrote a letter in Ukrainian on behalf of my mother & I, & we placed it in the grave. I know that she knows how I feel, knows my love & gratitude, but it's so good to make it tangible, to leave that there with her remains, somehow. We left her with so many flowers the headstone was covered, and a donut. Usually boiled eggs & vodka are food for the deceased, but the last thing she ever asked to eat was a boston-cream-supreme donut from 'Horton's'. (That's what she called it... "Let's go to that Horton's place, it's not too bad," she'd say)
After the burial, my family decided to go to 'Horton's' too in her honour. We were cold & unravelly, & it was raining hard. As I was walking across the parking lot, following my sister, I looked suddenly, something purplish was lying in a puddle. I looked down & found a soggy ten dollar bill lying on the curb --
"Oh, you'll catch cold out here! Go in, have some soup!"
Yesterday we buried my grandma's urn in the cemetery beside her husband, tucked her in under the rain & wet dirt & leaves. It's almost a year since she passed away, well, over ten months. But a year ago Thanksgiving was when she told us she wasn't going to be around much longer, that she missed her mother.
I wrote a letter in Ukrainian on behalf of my mother & I, & we placed it in the grave. I know that she knows how I feel, knows my love & gratitude, but it's so good to make it tangible, to leave that there with her remains, somehow. We left her with so many flowers the headstone was covered, and a donut. Usually boiled eggs & vodka are food for the deceased, but the last thing she ever asked to eat was a boston-cream-supreme donut from 'Horton's'. (That's what she called it... "Let's go to that Horton's place, it's not too bad," she'd say)
After the burial, my family decided to go to 'Horton's' too in her honour. We were cold & unravelly, & it was raining hard. As I was walking across the parking lot, following my sister, I looked suddenly, something purplish was lying in a puddle. I looked down & found a soggy ten dollar bill lying on the curb --
"Oh, you'll catch cold out here! Go in, have some soup!"
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