Nourishment

Kia ora lovely,

When I was a little girl my father would take great pride in cooking big pots of veggie soup for us. He would take his time, chopping the onions and the parsley and the carrots, adding the ingredients one by one, filling the house with the smell of hot soup stock.

I remember seeing his shirt sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, and a tea towel slung over his shoulder. He’d simmer that soup all day. And when I appeared, home from my adventures, he’d present me with a bowl of soup and lots of toast to soak it up with. Then he’d potter about nearby as I ate, watching me enjoy it with quiet satisfaction.

I remember sensing his happiness that his daughter was well fed, and now that I’m a parent, I get it.

My father had often gone hungry as a child, being born just before WW2, and he never tired of filling his children’s bellies with nourishing food.

What about you? Did your mother used to make something delicious? Or your father? Or someone you loved? What did that food mean to them? And how did it make you feel? What did it taste like? How did it smell? Do you still cook that food today? Do you have the recipe?

These are all great details to include in your story, as you paint a picture for future readers, of the life you lived. Play around with it, and feel free to send me 100 words to share with readers of this newsletter.

Write on,

Charlotte x

PS this Saturday students of my Write Your Memoir course are gathering online to share half pages of their stories. We keep the feedback gentle and encouraging; this helps people build confidence as writers, and keep going. Would you like to join us? You can join here. And if funds are an issue, just reply to this email to talk about setting up a special weekly payment arrangement.