Soup

I love soup. Soup is amazing, soup feels like fall and warm and happy and joy. I have never met a soup whose company I did not enjoy. I will eat soup/ drink soup; however, you believe it is we consume it, and I will always be happy.

Once fall rolls around, there are times when I will eat only soup for a week. I remember one year my abuela came to visit us from Argentina and she would say that one of the reasons she loved to come during the fall was because it was so easy to feed me.

My mom loved that whenever she took me to the Olive Garden all I wanted was the 6-dollar endless soup.

I think that I really enjoy the consistency of soup. Not many things in my life have remained consistent and I tend to get bored of most things easily. I move from one passion to the next with little regard for what is behind me.

I am really good at getting ridiculously attached to a subject, emotionally investing myself into every aspect of a topic, and then one day waking up…

Bam

Couldn’t care less anymore.

This is also how I broke up with my last two boyfriends… which might make me heartless in some circles, but I digress.

Soup is different every time you try it. There are so many types of soup, and even if you have the same soup twice, the spices could vary, the amount of protein per bowl and even bite is different.

I’m not so sure why this consistent variety is so attractive to me but I may mention it to my therapist at our next session of Friday.

I think the best part about soup though is that it just doesn’t look as good as it is. No one while making soup is like

Wow, this broth on top of these ingredients looks like it is about to knock my socks off!

No, you think: Wow, this smells amazing. Or, wow that tastes good.

If someone says soup looks good, I find it hard to believe that the objective appearance the soup is actually what is attracting them to it. Yet, soup is still one of the great gifts to man.