Soul Kitchen

There’s the woman who bursts through your heart’s front door like a surprise guest, and holds captivating court at the party raging in the frat house of your youth.

Then there’s the woman who sneaks in the back door and quietly starts puttering around your soul kitchen.  Years could go by before you realize how long she has been residing within, until one day the party is over and you stumble through the empty, stale, smoky detritus of your living room and into the kitchen, to find her at the stove, wearing your bathrobe or your t-shirt, her hair pulled back and a dishtowel thrown over her shoulder.  She is making miracles with your meagre pantry, smiling with indulgent patience as you shakily sit down, pour a cup of coffee and hope she will never leave…

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