Feeding Body and Soul

(I am now posting all of my work from January on, the timing may be off but the relevancy still resonates...some where)

My house smells like yeast and garlic again. After a long hiatus, which included two very painful deaths in the family, I found my way back to my place of solace and comfort...my kitchen.  It is in this place where I began to feel human again. It was my bread machine that did it. I made a garlic thyme French loaf that permeated every corner of the house. I took the loaf straight out of the machine, cut off the heel, slathered it with softened butter, salt and pepper and ate it hungrily over the kitchen sink. Never before had a meal been so satisfying.
Sleepless nights,  teary-eyed days and the constant parade of well-meaning friends and family took the life out of me and I became a shell of my former self. I did as best as I could to maintain some sense of normality in my family's life. I kept up on my homework, put up our tree, swept the chimney, did the laundry and kept rather busy. I lost fifteen pounds and ran myself ragged. I hid myself in whatever work I could find. I found no pleasure in the things I was doing but with everything else falling apart around me, I had to make something go right...right?
I digress. The point is that tragedy does not last forever. It ends and life goes on. I went back to my kitchen to continue my life. I found that, while nurturing others, I wound up nurturing myself.

**It is with mixed emotion that I report that those 15 pounds have found their way back, the world has not ended and my wardrobe now fits me again.   ;)