Lasagna Soup

I moved softly into 2023. Completely unprepared for the new year, still wandering, and mourning quietly and privately all that I’d lost in 2022. Who am I hung over me, with role of cherished ‘grandbaby’ gone forever, while I aimlessly feathered an empty nest after the last little chick flew away with summer.

But they carried me through, out of the old year and into the new, the soaring little chicks home on winter break. Wearing silly hats with flickering lights, we sipped sake while we chopped and measured. Cheers to a new recipe! Somewhere between the twerk lesson and the simmer of lasagna soup, I remembered how to laugh.

It’s no secret that food heals. And laughter heals. Letting go heals. Sake heals. And I’m convinced that a good twerk lesson in the kitchen heals, especially when the teacher is your daughter. Because daughters heal.

Three months in and I’m still not sure what 2023 is bringing. Except maybe spring. Sweet buds and cherry blossoms are busy fulfilling their promises. Forty-nine and holding, I put one foot in front of the other. Still gently, but more confidently now. Realizing that I don’t have to have it all figured out. In fact, maybe it’s best that I don’t.

I don’t know who I am anymore. But I’m open. Wide open. There are things I haven’t done yet. Places I haven’t been. There are dreams I haven’t dreamt yet. And great loves I haven’t loved…

So many books are unwritten.

I’m showing up here again, after a year, in this little space, my sacred place. With the only thing I have to share right now. No epiphanies. No great wisdom. No answers. Just, thanks to Instagram, the recipe for some damn good lasagna soup…

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cl2N-hmMcXG/?igshid=ZTlkMDEyOTY=