a lost art

{my grandma's tin teaspoons}

yesterday, as i drove, and coughed, my thoughts wandered to my ninety-one year-old grandma, anna dixon.

when any of us dixon children or grandchildren found ourselves sickly, she saw a need. she would make us homemade chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles and homemade bread.
:
a cure-all, i am certain.
:
a lost art, nonetheless.
:
sickness still lingers in my home, lingers in us all.
and my grandma, aged and tired, spends her days in bed, too.

oh, how i wish soup could heal us all.