I had a dream last night that I was eating a bowl of soup at my grandmothers. Gram always made the best soup. Well actually, everything she cooked was delicious. For whatever reason, her soup was always my favourite. Maybe it was because she only used vegetables from her garden, maybe it was because the chicken or the beef came from their farm. I actually believe it was because she made it with love, her secret ingredient.
The dream was so vivid, I could almost smell the soup as I lay there in my bed. Even though my grandmother passed away in 2012, I thought for a minute I was actually in her kitchen. I miss you Gram.