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Saving the Soup
by Sharona Glaser Ben-Avraham (USA/Israel)
It was Grandma’s special chicken soup that everybody loved. My newly-married grandson had just phoned. He was in the area. Could he and his bride stop in to visit? I had soup and some other treats in the freezer ready for such surprise visits. Of course they should come. Stay for supper.
The soup was in a plastic freezer container which I had placed on the counter to begin defrosting. Thinking pleasant thoughts of the coming visit, I prepared a few other “Grandma favorites” and set the table with my best china in honor of the newlyweds . It’s so exciting when grown grandchildren want to visit and spend time with the "oldies." They would be here soon.
Good, I thought, The soup looks partly defrosted. I picked up the container, ready to transfer the soup to a pot to heat. Suddenly, I was holding the cover in my hand while the container and soup were falling gracefully.The cover of the container had been loose! I must have had instant visions of the mess that the spilled soup would make all over the floor – and how could I have my grandson and new grand-daughter to dinner and not have any soup to serve? Instinct kicked in and I grabbed for the falling container.
The container continued its inevitable journey downwards, following Newton’s law of gravity. It actually fell quite nicely and neatly onto its bottom, splashing some soup along the way but retaining most of it as it hit the floor. I, on the other hand, hit the floor not at all gracefully and gently. First, my legs made contact, then my hips, then my back, and, finally, my head. Bam. I knew where I was. I had been flat on the floor before this and even more than once, but thankfully, in past adventures had ended up very sore but with nothing broken.
I was still alive. (I could tell that much right away.) The floor was cool. I had visions of wheelchairs and hospital beds. What was I going to do? What was that horrible noise banging against my ears? How could I get it to stop? My hysterical screams and crying brought my beloved Jake on the run. “What happened? What happened? Wait. Calm down a little. Don’t worry. We’ll get you up. Remember? We did it the last time.”
I am not a petite woman although I once was. I lay there thinking, I won’t ever be able get up. I’ll just lie here on the cool floor and forget all about it. “Jake, you can’t lift me or pull me. Remember your hernia, your heart. I’m scared. You’ll drop me. I feel like a beached whale.” Maybe the sea will rise up and take me back into it if I just rest here a while. Also, my mother always told me to wear my best underwear at all times in case I got hit by a bus and have to be taken to the hospital. I wasn’t wearing my best underwear. Mother was always right. She was right again.
Big couch pillows to prop me up. Sturdy dining room chairs to lean on, to pull me up onto. “Try, dear. Just try. We can do it.”
“No, we can’t. We have to call someone to help. The nearest neighbor has a heart condition. The neighbor across the street has a bad back. The next one isn’t yet retired and is certainly still at work. The emergency service number will come but they will insist on an ambulance to the hospital. I don’t want a hospital. See? I can move my arms and legs and neck. Nothing seems to be broken. People die in hospitals.”
“Be reasonable. We need help. Your grandson is coming but is not due to arrive for a few hours yet. What about the neighbors’ son-in-law? He’s young and strong and gentle and friendly. He works nearby. He likes us. We know him. Let’s try. Where is his number? Here it is. Thank God.” He answers. He’s close. He cares. He’s coming.
Such a good boy. So clever, too.
“Here’s how we can help her up. Little-by-little.”
“Please, don’t drop me. Don’t twist me. Don’t pull my arms off. I’m scared.” I close my eyes and feel myself rising slowly like a diver being pulled out of deep water by cables. I’m standing. I’m crying. I’m saying thank you, thank you, thank God. I can sit in a chair. I drink a glass of cold water. I hurt but I’m here. I know exactly what I will feel like in another two hours. I have the luxury of wondering what my grandson and his bride will have to eat.
I notice a container sitting close by my chair on the kitchen floor. Although it seems to be wide open, it has quite a quantity of something inside. I wonder what on earth it is doing there.
“Darling,” says Jake. “You saved the soup.”
The soup was in a plastic freezer container which I had placed on the counter to begin defrosting. Thinking pleasant thoughts of the coming visit, I prepared a few other “Grandma favorites” and set the table with my best china in honor of the newlyweds . It’s so exciting when grown grandchildren want to visit and spend time with the "oldies." They would be here soon.
Good, I thought, The soup looks partly defrosted. I picked up the container, ready to transfer the soup to a pot to heat. Suddenly, I was holding the cover in my hand while the container and soup were falling gracefully.The cover of the container had been loose! I must have had instant visions of the mess that the spilled soup would make all over the floor – and how could I have my grandson and new grand-daughter to dinner and not have any soup to serve? Instinct kicked in and I grabbed for the falling container.
The container continued its inevitable journey downwards, following Newton’s law of gravity. It actually fell quite nicely and neatly onto its bottom, splashing some soup along the way but retaining most of it as it hit the floor. I, on the other hand, hit the floor not at all gracefully and gently. First, my legs made contact, then my hips, then my back, and, finally, my head. Bam. I knew where I was. I had been flat on the floor before this and even more than once, but thankfully, in past adventures had ended up very sore but with nothing broken.
I was still alive. (I could tell that much right away.) The floor was cool. I had visions of wheelchairs and hospital beds. What was I going to do? What was that horrible noise banging against my ears? How could I get it to stop? My hysterical screams and crying brought my beloved Jake on the run. “What happened? What happened? Wait. Calm down a little. Don’t worry. We’ll get you up. Remember? We did it the last time.”
I am not a petite woman although I once was. I lay there thinking, I won’t ever be able get up. I’ll just lie here on the cool floor and forget all about it. “Jake, you can’t lift me or pull me. Remember your hernia, your heart. I’m scared. You’ll drop me. I feel like a beached whale.” Maybe the sea will rise up and take me back into it if I just rest here a while. Also, my mother always told me to wear my best underwear at all times in case I got hit by a bus and have to be taken to the hospital. I wasn’t wearing my best underwear. Mother was always right. She was right again.
Big couch pillows to prop me up. Sturdy dining room chairs to lean on, to pull me up onto. “Try, dear. Just try. We can do it.”
“No, we can’t. We have to call someone to help. The nearest neighbor has a heart condition. The neighbor across the street has a bad back. The next one isn’t yet retired and is certainly still at work. The emergency service number will come but they will insist on an ambulance to the hospital. I don’t want a hospital. See? I can move my arms and legs and neck. Nothing seems to be broken. People die in hospitals.”
“Be reasonable. We need help. Your grandson is coming but is not due to arrive for a few hours yet. What about the neighbors’ son-in-law? He’s young and strong and gentle and friendly. He works nearby. He likes us. We know him. Let’s try. Where is his number? Here it is. Thank God.” He answers. He’s close. He cares. He’s coming.
Such a good boy. So clever, too.
“Here’s how we can help her up. Little-by-little.”
“Please, don’t drop me. Don’t twist me. Don’t pull my arms off. I’m scared.” I close my eyes and feel myself rising slowly like a diver being pulled out of deep water by cables. I’m standing. I’m crying. I’m saying thank you, thank you, thank God. I can sit in a chair. I drink a glass of cold water. I hurt but I’m here. I know exactly what I will feel like in another two hours. I have the luxury of wondering what my grandson and his bride will have to eat.
I notice a container sitting close by my chair on the kitchen floor. Although it seems to be wide open, it has quite a quantity of something inside. I wonder what on earth it is doing there.
“Darling,” says Jake. “You saved the soup.”
