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On Living and Making Soup

We moved to an old craftsmen style house the year Jeff started his residency. Perched on the side of a hill on a quiet street, the house was right in the middle of the city. Big red oaks grew around it, giving the lot a deep cool shade in summer. I planted caladiums in the front flowerbeds and set a pot of red geraniums on the front step. In the afternoons, Annie and I sat on the porch and waited for her daddy to come home. 

I imagine that house is almost a hundred years old by now.  Usually, at least once in a year when I am in town, I drive by to see if the curtains Jeff and I made are still hanging in the windows. I haven’t been disappointed yet. We sewed them out of the cheapest muslin fabric we could find. They were simple tab curtains. I slid them open and closed along tension rods every morning and evening. 

I can still walk through that house in my mind. The house had stacked rooms like so many older homes do. Two built-in bookcases separated the living room and dining room. The…

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