“Hi, it’s me. I am just wondering if you had that chicken soup recipe? You know the one we made over the summer during that crazy lighting storm. Call me, love you, bye.”

The voicemail was from my niece, and her soft but congested voice  warmed me as much as the soup and the memory of the day we had a wicked thunder storm that knocked out the power.  My nieces became over dramatic, whining about how they were going starve and have to gather their food (we had a crazy week and we didn’t have time for Costco or the farmers market) and eat by candlight. I looked at them and said, “Great idea, go outside to the garden and gather ingredients.”

After looks that clearly said “Are you kidding me” “Do you not hear the thunder and the rain?” They made a mad dash outside, coming back with some…