Ireturned home smiling, planning to surprise my parents, but when I walked in…

The last time I saw my parents, my mother pressed a plastic container of chicken soup into my hands as if it were a medical prescription.
The lid was still warm, beaded with condensation, and the scent of garlic clung to my coat.

“You’re too thin. Don’t argue with me. Just take it.”

I laughed, kissed her soft cheek, and promised I’d be back the following weekend.

I meant it.