Chicken soup can be safely ranked as the Mother of all Comfort foods..closely followed by Gelato and Ferrero Rocher gateaux. The sole purpose of comfort food (self explanatory) is to make you forget your cares for a few solemn minutes and lap you up in the warmth and care the mourishment offers. It satisfies the physical..but then..what about the mental? What about finding the chicken soup to your soul?

Sometimes, you end up finding it through the company of friends or in the arms of a loved one. Maybe you find it in the presence of a soulmate. In this day and age of fluctuating loyalties, how does one truly find the person who completes you? How do you find the balance of the sweet,sour,bitter and the heat your soul craves? How do you get to your chicken soup?

People can be equated to the way they make their soup. Most of us find satisfaction in the instant 2 minute mix. A satchet. A quick fix. Most of us enter a relationship on the same principle. You need your heart warmer, you need that cushion to break your fall, you need that cling to feel your self worth. And then there are the ones who prefer to make it from scratch. Adding our own little twists, turns and excitement to that broth. People in that order love the intimacy, the exclusivity and the joy of having a secret garden. Its pure and unique.

I discovered my recipe to my chicken soup in march. A simple breath of fresh air that made my life a joy. Today, I sit beside her holding her hands wishing and praying I had more time to feed her some soup, that might just nourish her back. Today, I feel helpless at the thought that I cant tap into her mind and find her recipe to happiness. The clock ticks down, agonizingly, second by second. And I find that today, the soup I plan to have, is a little oversalted from the tears that drip from my cheek. It s stained a little from the way my heart bleeds, to see her like this, and not having the power to do anything about it. My chicken soup is currently flavoured by my rosary and my prayers, that somehow, God will work a miracle. I really want my soup...the one I had for 3 months..and the one I plan to have for the rest of my life. I sit and stir away in my cauldron of prayers, wishing that the mix I found, on that warm march morning, comes back to me, with that freshness she once brought.

I crave for my chicken soup today..my soul craves it..and I wait beside you today, to whiff, to share and to slurp and feel the familiar smile wipe over me once again. Come back soon. Ill be right here holding you.