The Soothsayer

I awoke to find Tara and Patrick sweating and huddled over their Vietnamese soup. As usual, they'd added too much chili oil and jalapenos making coherent conversation nearly impossible. Their vigorous slurping would vaporize the fiery broth. In aerated form, they inhaled the spice, thus, restricting their airways and resulting in a bizarre spasmodic combination of choking and coughing. Much to the dismay of the other patrons, this did not stop their conversation which had morphed into a loud, wheezing mess. It was their last night in Seattle and the flow of nostalgia would not be contained.

The past two weeks had been spent between Salem, OR and Moscow, ID. Logging as much time as possible with family and friends, they'd somewhat grown accustomed to the familiar way of hometown life. Now, back in Seattle, they felt sort of strange to be leaving for so long. Exaggerating this feeling was the party of 15 at the next table over. It consisted of a large family with several generations present. Their conversations were an echo of Patrick and Tara's time spent at home. The aunts and uncles were eagerly catching up with the nieces and nephews, while the in-laws grouped together at the end of the table as a sort of strength-in-numbers survival tactic.

With chapped and seared lips Patrick and Tara discussed the many family events they would not be present for. It was a reckoning of the familial costs for this trip. They both had known they would miss their families once they were in South America, but they hadn't anticipated this strange, sober feeling prior to leaving.

Though their conversation was earnest, the soup's constant demand for attention won them over. Now silenced, they spent the remainder of the meal happily eavesdropping on the large family gathering. When the hell-fire in their mouths was under control, and their bowels beginning to rumble, the bill arrived and their mirth was returned anew.