I'm not even entirely certain that that's what it was. But, a few years ago, a very good story happened to me. I was sixteen years old in another country, I had no phone to contact my parents, and I tested positive for COVID-19. So, I isolated from my travel group in Aurelio's house, alone with a few books. Aurelio's wife very graciously cooked dinner for me on that first night, before another patient joined me and we drove each other insane instead of ourselves. She spoke almost no English and I didn't speak much more Spanish than that, enough to express gratitude and that was really all.
That first night, delirious with sick and scared, she made a thick green soup. She said what it was, and I forgot. It is still the best thing I have ever tasted in my life. I am determined to figure out what it was-- I've ruled out Brussels sprouts but spinach is still possible, though I'm leaning asparagus.
Other, more interesting things happened amidst that delirium. I taught some kids how to play an art game, I watched a volcano erupt, I read an already-strange book in one confused sitting and likely launched my interest in an entire genre, if not career. Somehow the soup seems more important. A meal from a stranger when I was the most alone I've ever been.
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