Hearty Noodle Soup

Saturday 3:00 am

Luke, she called softly.

But there was no answer. He was sound asleep. His face was facing the other way, and his breathes rhythmic. She moved closer to him, her hand on his back. The warmth of his body gave her a sense of assurance.

It was dark and quiet in the room. There was no sound. If she got up and looked out of the window, there was nothing to see, except the orange street lights and the shadows under the tree. The city, in its slumber, was void of movements and sounds, the hustling and rustling of its inhabitants. How terrifying it was, she thought, the city at night, and this dreadful quietness.

It was 3:00 am. She was wide awake.

The window was slightly open, and the curtain was disturbed by the air. In the still darkness, she lay flat on her back.

It was a warm starry night after a long walk that she said "I hope we can just sit here through the night".

"You must be crazy", he laughed. Behind him, the tall grass and high trees flickering in the wind.

He was probably right. Night on a park bench was not a romantic business. The mysterious forces that forged the night, were beyond her simple minded naivety.

But tonight, like many other nights when she woke up unwillingly, no longer made her anxious. She had learned to adapt. She lay there, eyes closed. The air through the open window was tender like autumn water. Her senses were unbound, and her mind wandering free. She waited, in pleasant peace, for drowsiness to take over.

Tomato, basil & jalapeno

She sets out the things to make her signature noodle soup. She is in the mood of making it in this fine, cool Saturday afternoon. Things are quiet around the house. There is barely a sound. She does not turn on radio or music to occupy her mind. She is very much absorbed in her own thoughts. She doesn't need any one's help, and she doesn't mind the two hour or more labour of making the noodles and sauce. She loves to make it alone and lets her thoughts wandering free. She is so familiar with the whole process that she doesn't need to focus on it 100%.

She first makes the dough, then sets it aside to congest. She washes tomatoes, green peppers, onions, garlic, potatoes, and carefully and patiently cuts them into small cubes. She then takes out the chunk of lean pork, and minces it. She sets the meat and veggie aside to tend to the dough. It rolls smoothly in her hands. She has this portable noodle presser ready on the table. She rolls the dough flat and puts it in the presser. While she turns the handle, noodles come out. She lays the noodles on a flat tray to dry.

It is her mother's recipe, but she makes a few changes. She prefers to throw in garlic and jalapeno the last, and before the sauce turns into boil, she gets it out in a bowl. She then sprinkles minced cilantro or Thai basil in and adds a simple stir. She sets the table with a plate of thinly sliced cucumber and fresh bean sprouts.

While the noodles are boiling, she sits down for a few seconds. As she has expected, a car pulls in the driveway and Luke is home. She is delighted. He is the perfect period to end her solitude.

*************************************************

A Moment of Romance

She had been at the bus stop for about 20 minutes. There were a few other students waiting. Snow was falling hard. It was so quiet that she could hear the sound of the falling snow on the ground, tiny and crispy. Her feet started to freeze and she had to step on the ground hard to find senses. The moment I get home, she thought, I will heat up the potato soup. The thought of the potato soup filled her with warmth. She had talked with Luke and he knew she was having class tonight. Yet she didn't ask for a ride. She knew he would not be here to pick her up unless she asked.

The bus, finally, showed up.

It was her usual Wednesday night - she had evening class. By the time she got home, it was usually a quarter to eleven. She tried to avoid taking evening classes, but this one happened to be taught by her favorite professor. Just a semester, she told herself. When it started in fall, it was still quite bright at night and the 15 minute walk from the bus stop to her home was not a hassle. But deep into the winter she felt uneasy walking down the street when most of the time there was not a soul on the road.

The school bus screeched to a stop to let her off. The south campus was quiet and hidden in the shadow of its stately buildings. She paused to listen and heard nothing. There was no one but herself standing at the loop. She shifted the book bag to her right shoulder and started walking.

A figure that was standing by a tree gave her a startle. But she immediately recognized him. Luke, why are you here? She asked breathlessly. I want to walk you home. I want to know how you do it. He smiled. She smiled too, feeling grateful and touched. She put her hand into his with trust. They walked.

They passed by the rows of houses, where warm light sifted through the drapes. She used to long for the warmth of a worldly home until Luke joined her life. Now she was overwelmed by a moment of romance he brought upon. She felt content because romance was rare to find, and one didn't live by it every day. Isn't romance some sort of human invention? She asked herself. How can you be romantic when you are faced with all sorts of stress in life, those petty but indispensable things you have to do and the duty you have to fulfill?

Her little red brick house was right in sight.