“I take a shower, then make tomato soup from scratch for lunch. As I puree tomatoes in a blender, Mom leans on the counter, sipping her tea.
“You know that comes ready-made in a tin,” she points out.
“Canned soup isn’t made with love,” I say.
“Love is messy.” she points to the tomato-splashed spoons, pots, and measuring cups in the sink.
“Worth it,” I reply.”