The harsh hot wind brushes past my skin elevating the pressure in my head and heart to levels that don’t feel comfortable or safe. It’s a punishing unfamiliar terrain I stumble through almost every afternoon these days. I’m talking of course about the tortured world of preteen adolescence.
Yesterday, just like so many days, my 10-year-old arrived home stressed and hungry, both physically and emotionally. She needed something, anything, now. Before I have a chance to collect my thoughts, she is pushed to her breaking point about to dissolve.
Desperate for a salve, and in one of my finer Julie Andrews moments, I reach for some of her favorite things. Flavors and ingredients she adores with hope they will offer comfort. I decide to quickly cobble together a soup with Asian rice noodles soaked in a nourishing broth with a citrus edge.
While I would ordinarily pluck out a lime from the fridge, I instead pull out long stiff reeds of lemongrass I have just purchased from the Asian grocery. I trim the edges and remove the outside layer then pull out the hammer. It is time to put all of this wild energy to use.
She gives it a few blows opening a seam in the stalk and we toss it into a pot with simmering chicken broth. One more stalk, a repeated blow and a toss.
Next, she helps me peel ginger with a spoon. It is not only easier but also eliminates the use of knives in her fragile state.
Another blow with the hammer and it goes into our preteen brew. We further season the broth with fish sauce and a can of coconut milk and let it continue to simmer.
In the meantime, I pour a kettle full of water over a package of rice noodles and gently toss.
They release and soften after only a few minutes. We pull out a knot of tangled strands and dump into a large bowl over which I ladle spoonfuls of the perfumed broth.
If I had leftover pieces of rotisserie chicken, they would be well placed here, as would any shredded or chopped vegetables. I take a peeled carrot and peel off long strips of thin carrot curls to intermix with the noodles.
Taking a deep breath to inhale, she grabs a pair of chopsticks and gets to work, carefully grabbing a wad of noodles and slurping them up with spoonfuls of broth.
Within minutes, she gathers the bowl in her hands and tilts it back to her mouth to grasp every last drop.
Tummy full and energies expended, she finally releases herself from the table and heads over to curl up in a hug in my lap. Our bodies finally soften letting go of any remaining tension and we close our eyes. Together, at least for now, we take the time to exhale.
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