I
was at my farmers market stand selling Mason jars of homemade soup when Kimberly, one of my regulars, stopped by.
“You won’t be seeing me for a while,” she said. “I’m having surgery Thursday, and the doctor said I can’t do anything strenuous.”
“Is it serious?” I asked. I tied a label around a jar of Carrot Ginger soup, one of her favorites.
“Well, my breast cancer returned, and this time I’m having a mastectomy,” she said. I handed Kimberly the jar, processing what she had shared.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “That sounds really hard.”
“It is. And apparently, going to the farmers market is strenuous,” she said, placing the jar in her bag. “I guess in some ways it is. There’s a lot of walking. Your soup particularly, while I love the glass jars, does get heavy.”
I remembered that Kimberly lived in a nearby assisted living facility.
“I can bring you soup,” I said. “I would be happy to drop it off.”
Kimberly’s eyes went big. “Well, that would be great,” she said. “Are you sure? Thank you so much.” I assured her I was sure. I jotted down my email and told her to reach out when she was ready for soup.