I'm making a simple chicken stock based soup.  Nothing big, just yellow onion, garlic, potato, tomato, fresh spinach, fresh basil, some pepper, a couple of jalapeno, some dried thyme, a little red wine, and some olive oil.

My dad and my nephew were in town.  They left today; I dropped them at the airport a little after 1 pm.  I've been saying goodbye to my father my whole life.  It's something you get used to I guess.  I mean, I know by the age that I am, you're supposed to just, what, sort of be nonplussed by your parents.

My dad's a good guy.  And he hasn't been to Austin in four years or so.  He'd never seen my house.  He loves Texas, lived here many years in El Paso.  Met my mom there, started to raise us there.  He's lived nearly everywhere, though, but he loves Texas.

His highschool...he still keeps in touch with highschool friends from more than forty years ago...was having a reunion, but he stayed with us here, got updates from the reunion attendees.  El Paso is hours and hours away, and he'd wanted to come here with Chris, my nephew, to go to Wurst Fest, a sort of sausage Oktoberfest in New Braunfels.  Sausage and beer, polkas and chicken dances.  It was a very good time, with too much food.

Seeing Chris again after all this time was a shock.  He's huge.  My nephew has been here a couple of times, but was very much younger.  He turned 17 while he was here.  He was ten or eleven years old the last time he stayed with us.  My nephew is the oldest of my brother's two kids; the youngest is a mop-headed genius called Aaron.  Chris is six foot six, a huge kid with a baby face.  He's whip smart, witty as hell, politically savvy, and has a self-confidence that I did not expect.  He's funny as hell, and a great guy.  I am proud of him, proud to call him my nephew.

My dad and I last saw one another in Virginia some four or five months ago.  We meet there to stay with my grandparents once or twice a year.  Seeing my dad with nothing to worry about...no parents to watch over, no worrying over the details...he's this big goofy guy.  We fit well; we made our peace about the divorce and the abandonment issues, we're honest with one another.  He is 25 years older than I, and we're alike in many ways.  He's a gentle man, supportive.  Having him here, it was nice...very nice...to not have to be in charge.  To not have to be the guy who carries everything.  I'm too used to having to make the universe every day.  Run the world.

What I do.  This burning in my chest today is the world coming back to me after vacation.  I've had five days to be with my family.  I find myself lonely.  My wife and I have been a small away team from our families for years.  But now I feel that separation more than ever.

My day, a vacuum.  I have these routines, cleaning, cooking, making my way.  I work my ass off.  I try to stay cheered.  I try to maintain that my life is my choice.

That soup is almost done.  My father sent me a French cookbook.  I have a lot of new stuff to try.  High cuisine, snooty stuff way too rich for my blood.

This soup will go well with the chili that he made last night.  That catch in my throat?  Allergies, same thing making my eyes water.