Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup

The last time I remember having Campbell’s Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup was October 25, 2011. The relaxing smell of a nice steamed up bowl of chicken noodle soup easing my aching stomach. The white chunks of chicken floating around in the yellow soup makes it smell just a tad bit more delightful.

            Out of all the shapes and forms it comes in, I only have a can to pleas my appetite. A quote on the can Soup That Eats Like A Meal, that lives up to its saying.   A soup that’s both special and full of magic because of the never ending taste of heaven in your mouth. The antibiotic type of quality and spiritual boost your mom gives you in hopes to make you feel better.

            In this case, it wasn’t my mom making me it was my friend Vanessa Manzano. The can stating cooked with care in the USA but in reality it’s the person making it for you. She has been my next door neighbor and one of my best friends growing up.  She always is so caring, generous, and thoughtful. Offering to make me food or cook me something whenever, most importantly when I’m sick.

            Scraped clean bowl, no more soup. It’s all digested in my stomach by now. I finally feel good; no bad after taste; the wanting to puke sensation is finally gone. Then a couple hours go by, the healing power is faded and I’m back to before. Sick, wanting to throw up, and in bed hoping for this to finally go away. All of this reminding me how much I love chicken soup and the person who is kind enough to make it for me.

My Uncle in a Photograph!

There’s my uncle, sitting down on the couch while his daughter Ashley and niece Carly are making his hair beautiful by making a bunch of pigtails. His hair barely reaching the ears, so all the ponies are small. There’s only four visible so far.

It’s during the year 2002, just another day unlike no other. My uncle’s blank face, leaves me wondering what he actually is thinking. I assume, it’s what the hell did I get myself into or what am I going to look like at the end of this. Only if we knew this was the last time we’d see this expression because he would have committed suicide November 2003.

If you look closely, in the window there’s a tiny little play set. Will he ever take us on this or let us do his hair again? There’s no smile on his face, but every other time he does. A couple of months earlier is when this starts. We rarely see him so it took awhile to notice it. When you were around him you could tell how hard he was trying to hide his depression. The depression of being sad, mad, and unloved because he never sees his family anymore.

John left us like the drop of a hat. We were so blinded by the good times as a family we were having that no one noticed we were slowly pushing him out of our lives. He leaves us with a note. Note that states I’m sorry if I ever hurt you guys, I’ll promise I’ll never do it again, I love you guys so much, it would be easier without me in your life and this is what needs to happen. I’m so sorry! He writes this note before making the decision to kick the wooden chair from beneath his feet. Making his body drop like a sack of potatoes and that rope is what takes his very last breath away.

I LOVE you so much uncle, I wish you were here with me right now. I MISS you like crazy and I’m ALWAYS thinking about you.

                                              <3 always,

                                             Cat Balou(: