Roasted Tomato with Sourdough Soup

I remember the first time it really started to sink in

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just how much my parents had done for me over the years

The moment found me in the basement of my freshman-year dorm on a Sunday evening, folding my laundry

Though I'll never fully grasp the greatness of their love, it was in that moment, homesick, and missing all of the creature comforts for which I'd grown accustomed, that my perspective started to ..

shift

Some lessons can only be lived

“Mom, I made a batch of your laundry detergent this afternoon.  Thank you for sending the recipe.”

She lives in Montana now, with a family and child of her own.  During our drive-way moment this week, I was able to wish her the happiest of birthdays, and talk about life.  Partway through, I couldn't help but smile and

remember

It's floated in and out of my mind ever since.  A part of me wonders if our children can or will ever realize all of the things we do for them?  Another wonders if they should

The thank you's certainly come for some of the bigger things: the braces, the steady presence on high-school bleachers, or the painting of a purple bedroom

But what about the thousands of little things that we as parents weave with love into their lives, day in and day out?  I think about this today as I walk past boxes of their things that I keep for them, for when they'd like to have them

someday

I think of the hundreds of loads of laundry over the years, folded and arranged in neat piles.  All of the pancakes made for breakfasts, school lunches packed, with little notes tucked inside to make them smile.

Or the sheets of scented fabric that I'd tuck into the drawers that held their favorite t-shirts, those they wore every day

Sometimes I'd catch myself and think, why am I doing this?  They won't notice, or if they do, they've got to think I'm silly.

Those who know me well can attest, I've always loved a clean(ish) house.  Over the years, I've couched it in being attuned to how things are working.  But really, it's one of my ways of loving those who abide

Certainly, the faint watermarks in the corners of the window will let alert me of a leak, but I'm more interested in the little bit of kitty throw-up, a signal someone has a bad tummy

It matters to me that the closets aren't crammed with stuff, or that things won't fall on my head when opening a cabinet.  I've always loved to vacuum, somehow finding it therapeutic.  Maybe it's because it forces me to focus on the task at hand, or maybe because it's nice to have a simple and mindless task to finish

Somehow I also find comfort in the smallest bit of order.  It helps keep the chaos of the world at arm's length when I look around, and the floors are clean, the dishes are done, and my desk isn't a mess

If only life would obey such clear rules

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I've come to believe it's the smallest gestures, that often contain the greatest love

Coming home at the end of a long day, it's nice to find a bouquet of fresh flowers from the farmer's market on the kitchen table. Something cold and fizzy on a hot summer afternoon

Sending a book in the mail that you know someone will appreciate

Drawing a bath, stacking the towels on a chair, lighting a candle, or the simple gift of space, realizing someone's need for solitude

buoyed by trust

Tucking stalks of fresh lavender into the blankets and sweaters as they're put away for the summer.  Making the bed in the morning and turning it down at the end of the day.  Pulling the curtains just so, or the last pets and behind-the-ear scratches for everyone furry

as I head off to bed

Photo Credit: Instagram – @bethkirby

As I think of these small gestures, many are spontaneous, and others are on repeat.  How easily they become ritualized, these unspoken go-tos for showing my love when other means seemed to falter.  Surprise is good, although I have to believe it's reliability that will see us through the long haul

I think of how easy it is for me to lose sight of the power in these everyday expressions.  Imagining for a moment, what our days would be like if we approached one another with the same kindness, every step of the way?

But my children, did they notice any of it?  Perhaps not explicitly; they may approach my tiny and tender gifts over the years as their due.  They may, if they're among the lucky, never know a life without such touches

My sincerest hope is the habits of living, and loving will have seeped into their consciousness, so that one day they, in turn, will do sweet, and small things for the ones they love.  That one day their heart will be warmed when they hear

“Smells like Mom”

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With a batch of tomatoes from my parent's garden, I couldn't think of a better way to showcase them, but roasted and made into a simple soup.

We really love this one.  It's lighter, with a flavor that's delicate yet deep. The ingredients are simple enough, mostly tomatoes, plus a few slices of sourdough, and a few spices.

In the end, the soup is pureed before serving, though not until it's creamy smooth.

Enjoy!

xoxo

~ Soup Adapted from Jerusalem by Yotam Ottolenghi and Roasted Tomatoes Adapted from Ina Garten