On Mother's Day, we 5 came home from church ravenous for something comforting and warm and gooey. I knew exactly what I wanted to make and one grocery stop and 30 minutes later, homemade tomato basil soup with crusty finger bread grilled cheese was on its way. It was chilly out with predicted rain, and I wanted a cozy Mother's Day, so we needed comfort food. I put Mabel down for a 15 minute nap and B took the boys outside to play ball. It was quick, easy, and most definitely hit the spot.
I love to make soup. It is so comforting and motherly to me. Did you know that I made tomato soup last year on Mother's Day? I didn't either until just a moment ago. Funny.
So it makes sense to me why I called B 'Tomato Soup' on the blog for months, but I realized I never explained it. Aside from the comfort factor of his soul anywhere near mine (barf if you must), it began with some email passing after I returned from lunch one day. I had tomato soup and he commented about it. Then he kept commenting about it to the point where I was sure he had to be flirting. And so the tomato soup reference continued until the day when the sky broke open, the snow melted, and I woke the hell up. On that day I knew what I had to do. I went to the store and bought some tomato soup and the next day, I took it to work with me.
The next morning I got out a blank notecard and was deciding on what prose to include. Something like, 'I saw this and thought of you...' I wanted it to be appropriately friendly but with a coy bit of flirt, too. Just then my phone rang and it was B. We were knee-deep in one of our projects together and he had a question for me. Instead of answering it over the phone (here we go!), I told him to stay put (balls to the wall!), and I would be right up to his office. I threw the notecard in the trash, grabbed the soup can, and marched myself all the way through the plant and up the wooden stairs that led to his office. In retrospect, I wasn't nervous. I was certainly anxious, but never nervous. I was SURE.
I walked in and closed the door behind me. The soup was hiding behind the stack of papers in my hand, papers that I noticed were suddenly trembling just a tad. He was wearing one of my favorite shirts - the navy blue AE polo, with his radio cable curled around the collar. Had his glasses on, too, and I nearly lost my balance from swooning. We chatted about our project and then I told him that I had something for him. In a very bold and Rachelish move, I slammed the metaphoric GREEN LIGHT can of tomato soup down on his desk. "I saw this and it made me think of you." He smiled. I smiled. We went back to our conversation and I stopped trembling.
That was the moment. Right there, when he had to know that I was finally paying attention. And it worked. Thank God he was patient.
And so it seemed poetic on Sunday as we stood in the kitchen and he asked me how he could help. My hands were chopping and I said, "Stir the soup?" And so he did. He stirred my tomato soup. I thought about how long we've been together. A few months equal to a lifetime of possibility for both of us. Like the soup simmering on the stove, so was our love waiting to be enjoyed. It took us so long to find each other, after all. Full circle right there, Folks.
It was extra precious this morning when I walked up those same wooden steps to his office and handed him some of the soup for lunch today. Still not nervous, but still very SURE.
Man, I love me some tomato soup. A very lot.