Before interstates and fast cars, I remember riding for three days in the back seat of our family car, through mountains and prairies to visit my grandparents in northern Illinois. I remember crossing the Illinois River by ferry, driving through until after midnight, and finally very happy to walk through the back door of their big comfy home. My grandmother was up waiting. First thing, she lifted the lid on the pot of soaking navy beans to show us she would be cooking bean soup - Daddy's favorite - for him tomorrow. It was a way of showing she loved him.
We can all probably remember something made especially for us by someone who loved us. It feeds our souls.