The Light in my Sea of Darkness

*TW: Light cursing and mention of death.

One year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty-five days. It didn’t matter which way I perceived it, the fact still remained–mama was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It had been two years since the cancer spread like wildfire throughout her body. It had been one year since the cancer had completely taken over and had won.

When mama died, Prunella, my older sister, took off. Not that it surprised us or anything, she had been gone since she was seventeen when she decided Bryan the drummer was all she needed. She's twenty-five now. A little bit more mature, but no Bryan. She’d only come back home when mama was diagnosed with cancer though.

“I can’t find it!” Peter rummaged through piles and piles of mama’s recipe books.

Peter’s my older brother, but he’s two years younger than Prunella. He tries to suppress the fact that he’s in pain, but I can see right through his macho man exterior. Those dark shaded skull tattoos running down both arms didn’t fool me. The left arm read, “death is inevitable” and the right arm read, “I don’t fear death.”

“There’s no way it's gone! Mama kept all her books right here!” I scolded, pointing to the old but tough, fine-grained wooden bookshelf behind me.

“Let's keep looking, Prudence. It's gotta be here somewhere, I really wanted to make mama’s beef soup today.” Peter practically launched his upper body into the glass doors of the bookshelf. He pulled out photo albums, a box of envelopes, even shoe boxes full of old receipts, but not mama’s book that contained her beef vegetable soup recipe.

“You’re still looking for that thing?” Prunella rolled her eyes as she snatched the cheerio box and plopped onto the counter. “Just make it yourself.” She shrugged. Cheerios crunched in her mouth as some hit the floor.

“Uhm, I guess. It’s not a bad idea, right Peter?” I mumbled to my brother. He was leaning over cleaning up my sister’s mess. So typical of him. He always wanted mama’s house to be in top notch shape. He says that’s exactly how she would have wanted it to be.

“This is mama’s house! How about showing a little respect, Prunella?” Peter tossed the cereal into the trash and looked up at me. “Sure. Where do we even begin? I know what meat and vegetables we need, but I never paid attention to how mama seasoned it. Do you know what else she threw in the pot with it?”

“Beef broth, salt, pepper, maybe some garlic cloves?” I suggested. I wasn’t really sure either. We never really helped mama out in the kitchen. We just came scurrying in when she would tell us it was supper time.

“There was also some type of green herb, but I’m not sure which one mama used.” Peter’s head lowered, his eyes glistened as he fought back the tears. Making this soup today means the world to him. I think it's his way of trying to keep mama’s memory alive.

#

Mama always used the same faded blue tall pot that had the rusted handles each and every time she made soup. She used to call it her magical soup pot. I used to giggle under my breath when she would call it that, but now I’d give anything to hear her voice say those words again.

“Beef stew meat, carrots, potatoes, onions, green beans.” Prunella swiped the screen of her iPad searching for a solution from the internet, “We’ve got all the ingredients in the pot now.”

Mama despised the web. Especially when it came to cooking, she’d call it cheating. She used to say all she needed were her two hands for mixing, her mouth for tasting, and ingredients to cook with. She wasn’t wrong though, mama sure did know how to put together the best home cooked meal any kid could ask for.

Mama was a smart, resilient, and strong woman. She raised us by herself while working two jobs trying to make ends meet. I had a daddy until I was about two, and then he died. He was a firefighter and lost his life one night trying to save a baby. Even though I don’t remember much about him, knowing what he did makes me proud to be his daughter.

“Yuck. This is not mama’s soup!” Peter cried as he swished water around in his mouth. “It needs something. Pepper maybe?” He sprinkled some in the pot of soup.

Prunella and I both grabbed a spoonful of soup, blowing our hot breath onto the steam that rolled off from it. “Hmm.” She raised an eyebrow and grabbed the salt, vigorously shaking it into the pot.

“Whoa! Whoa!” I scolded as I snatched the salt from my sister’s hand. “That’s way too much salt, Prunella Jean!”

“Why don’t we try a little thyme and basil?” I merely suggested grabbing for the herbs.

“Who the hell put you in charge, Prudence? You have an issue with everything I have tried to help with today! Mom’s dead, I think it is perfectly fine to use the web for a recipe that already exists somewhere. It’s not like she’s going to haunt you from the grave or something. We couldn’t even find her recipe book! All we can do is just try, damnit!” Prunella snapped, waving her iPad in front of my face.

“Knock it off Prunella! We’re not doing this. Out of all the days, today is not the day!” Peter stirred the simmering pot as he added garlic cloves.

“No, it's cool Peter. If Prunella wants to be an insensitive bitch, that’s her prerogative!” I stomped into the living room and sat on the couch, shoulder checking my sister on the way out.

#

It had been hours since we began cooking mama’s famous beef vegetable soup, and the aroma warmed the whole house. It smelled delicious. Mama always had the house smelling like food. It always smelled of soups, casseroles, hams, cinnamon, and chocolate chips. We would wait and wait until it was time to dig in. It was the best part and the worst part about her cooking, all at the same time.

“Prudence? Can we talk?” Prunella was standing at the doorway, arms crossed as she stood there pleading with me. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean any of those awful things I said! I just miss mom so much. It makes me angry that she’s gone. I took my anger out on you and it was wrong. Please forgive me!” Prunella’s voice cracked as tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Of course I forgive you, Prunella. You’re my sister and I love you.” I leaned over to hug my sister. I wiped her tears as they began to run down my cheeks. “I’m sorry too. I guess I just got a little carried away. It’s been one year since mama’s been gone, and I just wanted to do something special. I just wanted to recreate her recipe.”

She squeezed me tightly and screeched, “Thank you!”

Clomp! Clomp! Peter ran up to us and bear hugged both of us, “Yeah, see! This is what family is all about. I love you guys.”

#

There was a loud ding when mama’s old rooster timer went off. We all darted into the kitchen like small children running with glee into the living room on Christmas morning to open presents.

Prunella turned off the stove, while Peter grabbed bowls and spoons. I grabbed a ladle and poured us all a heaping bowl of soup. We sat at the table together, mama’s picture sat in the middle of the table.

Simultaneously, we decided to try it. Moments later we were spitting and gulping large amounts of milk and water, trying to get the horrible taste out of our mouths.

“This is awful! We ruined mama’s soup!” Peter squealed as he swished milk around his mouth. “We all tried too hard, and didn’t talk to each other to begin with. We should have written a recipe down and went with it."

Peter tossed his bowl into the sink, slammed the door and took off. His car’s loud exhaust was so loud I bet the whole neighborhood could hear him from a mile away.

I stood up, shoved my chair back and threw the soup away. I washed out my bowl and went to mama’s room. It was where I had spent most of my time. I’d curl up on her bed and cuddle her pillows. They still had her scent. Cocoa butter with a hint of cherry blossom, they were her favorite smells. They have become my favorite now too. They are the light in my sea of darkness.

The end