It has been a year... I can't believe it has been that long since I started packing my life in to boxes in my apartment in Tempe, Arizona. I started that job to move across town but ended up moving across the country. I am far far away from where I expected to be one year later.
I think back on it as one of the most sad days in my life... the day I decided to leave Arizona, but, at the time it was a great bitterly happy day. I thought I was moving on with my life. Moving on to other things and leaving some of the hurts and sorrows behind. Most of I created for myself and added to with personal conflicts and intellectualization. My standard defenses against my own failures and shortcomings. Nothing new... I have learned new words to describe myself in recent months.
I started thinking about this because it is now time to start planing for the famous family Turtle Soup day. It is always the Sunday after Thanksgiving and we rent out a fairly large facility to house the number of family and friends that show up. It is still a small number compared to what it used to be in my memories of when Grandpa was still alive. When the glue isn't there any more... things start to fall apart. I don't blame anyone for that... I didn't make it back for turtle soup for nearly 8 years. Now there isn't anything in this world that could stop me from being there. There is nothing like taking an entire morning and working at making something so good as a pot of soup. I love just standing there stirring the kettles to keep warm or running the grinder. Freezing to death just to get the last of the stuff through the grinder before drying off your hands and warming them near the soup. Making soup is something I need to do to feel alive. It is something that makes me who I am. A tie to my past that will never be forgotten. It makes me feel like a kid again.
So this November I will make soup and remember Grandpa again through the tradition he passed on to us. Maybe someday I will have the opportunity to pass it on myself.