Ari Nystrom Rice

Matzah ball soup

I gaze upon the churning liquid

Its savory aromatics wafting through my nose

I ladle the golden liquid into my bowl

Taking special care to get extra Matzah balls

I walk back into the dining room

And the soup becomes the least of my concerns.

 

I sit with my family

A whole array of love

From little cousin to matriarch

We gaze at our big bowls of soup

We raise our spirits with humor

We grow closer with talk

We fill our hearts with warmth

Through soup

And each other.

 

For a week to come

I eat this soup

Those same smells of love

And family

With each spoonful of soup

I remember the that night

Even now months later

I feel this soup in my heart

I remember the joy

The love.

 

I long to taste it again

The taste of family

The taste of love

The taste of Matzah ball soup