"It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it." – John Burroughs

Date:
December 21st, 2017 (Northern Hemisphere)
June 21st, 2017 (Southern Hemisphere)

Occasion: Winter Solstice

Country: Worldwide

■ □ ■ □ ■ □ ■ □

XXXVI | The Soup Kitchen

The whole point of a cold winter morning was to be able to snuggle into your blankets and listen to flurries of snow passing by your window, while thanking your lucky stars that you weren't the poor soul struggling through the blizzard. At least, that was the mindset of Mason Lawley, who was doing exactly that and also feeling an urge to hug the person who invented winter break.

A snowflake drifted past his bedroom window as Mason snored his way through the early hours of the morning. A creak of the door opening and the snap of it closing went through one ear and out the other. He was too busy trying to sleep than to focus on disturbances.

What he didn't account for, however, was how persistent some disturbances can be. A sudden thud jerked him out of his slumber and he instinctively pulled his blankets over his head. As a kid, he learned to assume that any sound was the monster under his bed, crawling out to attack him, so he would always hide and hope his blankets were enough camouflage.

"Marzipan!" a familiar voice chirped from the foot of his bed. "Wake up!"

Mason peeked over his bedsheets. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, Stella Bennett came into focus. Her whitish blonde hair reflected the light streaming in through the window, creating a halo above her head, but Mason knew her personality was far from angelic. A cheerful grin was perched on her lips, and she was looking far too awake for – Mason checked his phone – eight in the morning.

"Oh, it's just you," he mumbled, slumping back onto his pillows. "Why are you here?"

It wasn't like he was particularly surprised to see her. Stella was one of those people who always barged into the business she was supposed to stay away from. There were certainly people who hated her for it, along with her juxtaposed do-gooder and rebel attitude, though Mason found it endearing. No doubt she had some crazy adventure planned for them again.

The reason Mason put up with her was that she was his closest friend. Ever since she dumped a bowl of candy canes over his head in kindergarten, and he retaliated by stealing the teddy bear she carried everywhere, they'd been inseparable.

"Not so much as a hello?" Stella scoffed. "I had to battle a blizzard to get here. The least you could do was give me a warm welcome."

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with excitement, but as much as she tried to hide it, Mason noticed she was shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asked in concern, and though she shook her head, he knew she was faking toughness for the sake of her pride. Mason rolled his eyes and grasped around for the nearest blanket. His fingers closed around soft material and he tossed it at her.

Stella caught it, unfolding it to reveal a blue jacket with an emblem stitched on the side. She raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you play on the varsity football team?"

"Jason gave that to me as a hand-me-down," Mason sighed. Jason was his older brother who'd moved to Boston three years prior, to pursue chemical engineering and live with his fiancé. Stella knew this, of course, since she and Mason spent their whole childhood attached at the hip. Jason was as much of an older brother to her as he was to Mason.

Stella shrugged, wrapping the jacket around her shoulders. It was much too big for her. She looked comical, with the sleeves hanging far below where her hands stopped. It made sense, since Jason had a far bigger build than she did, but Mason snickered anyway. Stella glimpsed herself in the mirror and burst out laughing. "I look like a penguin!"

"We just need to give you a beak and no one will be able to tell the difference," Mason snorted, breaking into laughter when she began waddling around his room and quacking. She kept this up for several minutes before their laughter faded away.

Stella perched herself on the edge of his bed once they calmed down. Mason rolled his eyes again, knowing she was too stubborn to ask for more blankets or body warmth. The penguin imitation had warmed her up a bit, but she was still shivering. Their houses were close to each other, but in a blizzard, they seemed like a hundred miles apart.

"So," Stella began, but Mason cut her off before she could continue.

"Before you explain whatever crazy shenanigan you want to involve me in this time, you need to warm up. Come here," he gestured at the spot beside him. She shot him a skeptic glance, but decided she was too cold to argue and shuffled towards him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled his own blankets up so they covered them both. "Okay. Continue."

Stella took a couple of seconds to adjust to the sudden warmth. Once she could speak without her teeth chattering, she was back to business. "We need to get a move on," she said briskly. "There are homeless people who need our help, and I plan to help them today. With your assistance, of course. This kind of thing is no fun on my own."

"I swear to god, Stella, if you make me do anything stupid or illegal this time–"

"Marzipan," she interrupted before he could go on a rant about the several instances in which they were nearly arrested. "Relax, bud. We're just going to be helping out with the soup kitchen. Come on, it'll be fun! We'll get to feed the homeless and cook for them. I know you love those kinds of domestic activities. Come on, say yes. Please?"

Marzipan was the nickname Stella gave him after he dressed as Waldo for Halloween. She thought he looked more like a candy cane than the book character. As an added bonus, Stella had an obsession with candy canes. Give her anything minty and she'll be in debt to you. At this point, she owed so much to Mason that he didn't even bother keeping track anymore, but he didn't mind. She brought the adventure and spirit into his life. After all, she was practically the embodiment of adventure.

"The soup kitchen, huh?" Mason pondered. His tone was skeptical but he was beginning to warm up to the idea. He knew Stella could read his expression. Her grin grew when he decided he was in. Helping out with the soup kitchen was one of her better ideas, and helping people out was a bonus. "One question. Do we really have to walk through the blizzard to get there?"

"We can have some breakfast beforehand and wait for the blizzard to clear up," she assured him, slipping out of his blankets and his arm. Mason felt his arm drop like a dead weight when she got back to her feet. He felt empty without her shoulders supporting it, but decided not to voice that. "Your mom was already making breakfast when she let me in."

Stella strode over to the door and opened it. An instant flood of kitchen smells wafted into his room and he breathed in, savoring the scent of sizzling meat. His stomach rumbled. "Do I smell bacon and eggs?"

Stella laughed, jerking her head down the hallway. "Come on and grab some food, slowpoke, or I'm taking all the waffles. You know how much I love your mom's cooking."

At the mention of waffles, Mason leaped out of bed and scampered out the door. Stella continued to laugh, grabbing a jacket for him from the closet before following in his footsteps. He often forgot about how cold he was when he was in pursuit of food.

The two of them burst into the kitchen, with Mason loudly proclaiming that the waffles were his, which made his mother jump, though she kept a steady hand on her spatula. "You two finally up?" she asked, flipping an egg. She glanced back at them and grinned at the sight of Stella wearing the huge varsity jacket. "Stella, you look like a penguin."

"It's not my fault Jason's built like a human boulder," Stella grumbled.

She opened a cupboard door and took out three plates, before gathering up the necessary utensils from each of their specific drawers. She knew the house like the back of her hand, like Mason knew hers. It was a bonus that their parents got along well, so they were fine with Stella crashing at his house, and vice versa. Their families often hosted joint dinner parties, too.

As Stella made her way back to the kitchen table, where Mason had already taken a seat, she set the plates and cutlery out. Mason knew he should help her out, but he was too hungry to fix his eyes on anything except the sizzling bacon. Mrs. Lawley arrived a second later, carrying huge plates of crispy bacon, fried eggs, and mountains of golden waffles.

Mason and Stella were ravenous. After making sure Mrs. Lawley had a large enough portion for herself, they devoured the rest in ten minutes. They justly decided to each take half the waffles for themselves, but Mason got more bacon and Stella scoffed the eggs.

"Where are you two off to today?" Mrs. Lawley asked, once their plates had been cleared. Mason slumped back in his chair, sleepy once again due to his full stomach. He wondered whether Stella would let him postpone the soup kitchen idea so he could get a bit more sleep, but he knew she would shoot him down if he proposed the idea.

"We're off to the soup kitchen to help out the homeless," Stella chirped brightly. She checked her watch and her eyes widened slightly. "Actually, we're already behind schedule a bit. We should really get going. Mason, you should change. That blizzard's much colder than it looks."

Mason wanted to complain that the blizzard certainly looked cold enough to him, but simply exchanged an exasperated glance with his mom, who also knew about Stella and her crazy shenanigans. To be fair on Stella, the blizzard was starting to calm down. The raging wind slowed down to a soft breeze, though Mason knew the cold would still pierce his skin.

"I'll be back," he grumbled and trooped upstairs to his room.

He quickly changed, aware of Stella and her schedules, slipping on multiple pairs of socks and layering jacket upon jacket until he looked like a snowball. He waddled downstairs, swamped in winter clothes, and when he re-entered the kitchen, where Stella was waiting expectantly, he tossed a few more jackets at her, which she caught and put on.

"You two have fun," Mrs. Lawley said, looking amused at the two human-sized snowballs before her. Mason and Stella walked out the door, though Mason dragged his feet and Stella positively skipped. "Stay safe!" she called after their retreating backs. "Call me when you get there!"

"Of course, Mrs. Lawley!" Stella shouted back, before the door slammed behind them and they were engulfed by the blizzard.

It was too snowy to see far ahead of them, but Mason was more concerned with the snow that burned against his warm face. He shuddered at the sudden cold, but noticed that Stella was already beginning to wade towards the soup kitchen. With one last longing glance back at his home, decorated with twinkle lights and a roaring fireplace within, he followed her.

The blizzard was growing thicker. Snowflakes cut into Mason's cheeks like throwing stars as they waded through the snow that was already up to their knees. He was just about to shout that they should find a house to seek refuge in, when Stella yelled, "nearly there!"

She was right, for a lone building stood ahead of them that Mason recognized as the soup kitchen. Mason sighed in relief. They began to walk faster, though they kept skidding backward. Walking on snow was much more difficult than they'd anticipated. "Maybe we should grab a bowl of soup for ourselves once we get inside!" Mason called to her.

Stella nodded. They picked up their pace until they were running and reached the soup kitchen within minutes. They stumbled up the stone steps, but Mason bit back a curse when he saw the sign hanging in the window. "Closed?" Stella gasped. "No way."

"Are you saying that we forced our way through that blizzard for nothing?" Mason demanded, more frustrated at his general predicament than Stella specifically. "Stella, didn't you think to check whether the soup kitchen was actually open today? Like, on their website or something? Online? Without having to wade through knee-deep snow?"

"It's always open," Stella whispered through her fingers, her gloved hands covering her mouth. "I assumed it'd be open. Why the hell would they be closed?"

"Come on, we should go back before the blizzard gets even worse," Mason said, tugging at her elbow. Stella was frowning at the building. "What are you looking at?" he asked, annoyance now prominent in his tone. He wanted to climb back into his bed and sleep the morning off.

Stella pointed at a faraway window. Mason followed her finger with his eyes, frowning because he saw nothing out of the ordinary. With a suspicious edge to her tone, Stella asked, "if the soup kitchen is actually closed, then why is that light on?"

Mason had to squint to see the light, but after a few moments, he also caught sight of it. The frown lines on his forehead grew deeper. Stella had a point. If the kitchen was closed, no one would be in there. "I see what you mean, but it looks kind of sketchy. What if we run into a burglar? What if we get kidnapped? I think it's safer for us to get out of here."

Stella was never exactly one to take the safe route, however. Ignoring Mason and his protests, she lifted a fist and rapped sharply on the door. They waited, but nothing happened. Stella knocked again, this time with more insistence. Mason saw a curtain shift, and footsteps were growing louder and louder, heading straight towards them. He braced himself to run for it.

The footsteps paused for a moment, and the door flew open to reveal a tall man with thin glasses perched upon his nose. He raised an eyebrow at the two of them standing there, hair streaked with snowflakes and still looking like snowballs. Their clothes were now damp and filled with snow, so they puffed out even more than before.

"Can I help you?" the man asked. Though he looked like an authority figure, his shoulders were drooping with exhaustion. A faint trace of sadness could be seen in his eyes.

"Why is the soup kitchen closed?" Stella demanded immediately. Mason had to bite back a groan. Stella often forgot about her manners when she was worked up, but Mason knew it was a bad move to be rude when they were stuck in the middle of a blizzard. Not that Stella cared. She would sleep in a snowdrift if that was a part of her insane plans.

"Sorry about her," Mason cut in before Stella could say anything else that would get herself into trouble. "We're just confused about why the kitchen is closed now, since it's usually open all year. Also, um, would it be okay if we step inside and warm up? Just for a couple of hours. We waded through the blizzard to get here and I can't feel most of my limbs."

"Of course," the man said, looking amused. He stepped aside for Stella and Mason to waddle into the building. They found a home in the foyer, where a number of comfy chairs accompanied a roaring fireplace, giving the room a warm glow. Mason stripped off his jackets with a sigh of relief and fell into an armchair.

Stella was still looking quizzically at the man. "Who are you?" she asked suddenly. "And why are you the only one here?" At the pointed glare I gave her, she threw in a quick "sir" at the end.

"I'm the manager of this soup kitchen," the man sighed, slumping in an armchair beside Mason. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The firelight threw his facial features into deeper relief. He looked fairly young, but the stress wrinkles on his forehead aged him significantly. "As you said, we're usually open all year round, but half the employees are on holiday elsewhere and the other half were impeded by the blizzard. It's a miracle you two even made it here."

"So, why are you closed?" Stella asked bluntly. Mason rolled his eyes at her. The man was clearly exhausted, yet she had hardly any sympathy for his predicament.

"Lack of staff, obviously," the manager yawned, sliding his glasses back on. "I can't run a soup kitchen on my own. The homeless have sought refuge elsewhere. Those who didn't manage to find temporary homes are in the next room over." He jerked his head towards a room to their right. "But we have limited food, too many mouths to feed, and we're significantly understaffed."

"Not anymore," said Stella, a determined glint in her eye. "You have us. We can help you open up the soup kitchen and keep it running smoothly."

The manager peered up at her skeptically. "Just the two of you?"

"Three, if you join us," Mason chimed in. Stella shot a grateful look at him. They may as well help out the kitchen since they were already here. Besides, Mason had adopted a much more positive attitude once he'd warmed up by the fire and was no longer wading through snow.

The manager looked from Stella to Mason and back again. "Sure, why not? Knock yourselves out. Just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it. God knows how many people out there are in need of our services, and it's nearly Christmas too."

"Right you are," Stella said in a brisk tone. "Okay, so you said we have limited food. How do we get our hands on more?"

"We usually store our food in the building next door," the manager replied. He lifted himself off his seat and straightened up, looking more the part of an authority figure. "I have the key. Now, don't take this personally, but I don't trust anyone else with the keys, so I'll have to go. Would you like to come with me and help carry boxes?"

"Of course," Stella said brightly. Mason was more reluctant, since it meant going outside. Stella was finally appearing to have some empathy for him. It was her fault, after all, that he was practically suffering from hypothermia. "Marzipan, you stay here and let people know that the kitchen will be opening a couple of hours. You still have reception here, right?"

Mason shot her a grateful glance and nodded. "Yeah, I still have a few bars. I also have loads of data. I can get the word out on social media. Do you have a Facebook page or anything I can post on?" he asked the manager.

The manager was looking bewildered. "Your name is... Marzipan?"

"It's Mason," he quickly corrected. "Just disregard the Marzipan thing."

"Alright, well, yes, we do have a Facebook page. Can you hand me your phone? I'll log into it for you." Mason handed the manager his phone and after a few taps, he gave the phone back to Mason. "Right, we should head out and grab the supplies," the manager told Stella. "Once Mason starts posting that we're open, people are going to swarm here."

"Sure, let's go," Stella agreed, and the two of them hurried out of the building.

When Stella opened the door, a draft blew in, which made Mason shiver and the fire flicker. Once the door slammed shut, the fire blazed merrily once again. He curled up in his armchair, even more grateful for the warmth, and began to post about the soup kitchen opening. Within minutes, his posts were flooding with likes and comments.

People soon began to comment that they were on their way. At that moment, Stella and the manager came back in, looking windswept and carrying armfuls of boxes. Mason leaped from his armchair and said, "guys, people are already starting to make their way over. We need soup and we need it soon, otherwise we'll have too many mouths to feed."

"On it," Stella said instantly. She turned to the manager, who was looking flustered, his glasses askew and coated with frost. "We should dump all this stuff in the kitchen. Where is it?"

"Straight down the hallway and to your right," he replied, gratefully letting Mason take some of his boxes. Stella hurried down the hallway and turned a sharp right, Mason hot on her heels and the manager lagging behind. They skidded into a vast kitchen and set the boxes down. Stella began to slit the boxes open and take out the contents.

"Stock, vegetables, noodles, chicken," Stella listed, looking delighted. "We can definitely work with this. I'm not a great cook," she told the manager, "but Mason is phenomenal, so he can help you out. I would probably be better off doing something else."

"You can light the fireplaces in the other rooms," the manager instructed. "Once more people come, the rooms are going to fill up. Also, turn on the Christmas lights, would you? The main switch is in the foyer, beside the Christmas tree."

Stella trooped out of the kitchen without another word and a second later, every room was flooded with twinkling lights. "That's more like it," Mason said, a broad smile stretching across his face as he watched Stella dart from room to room, lighting each fireplace. "Now," he turned back to the boxes of ingredients. "We need to start cooking."

"Right," the manager agreed, spreading the ingredients on the bench. "We have enough ingredients for chicken noodle, French onion, and tomato basil. Which one do you want to tackle?"

"I can make a great chicken noodle," Mason told him, drawing the frozen chicken breasts and noodles to his side of the bench. "How about I handle that, while you do French onion and tomato basil? Let me know if you need any help."

"Right you are," the manager said, and they got to work.

Mason had watched his mom make chicken noodle soup so many times that the process was robotic for him, and within twenty minutes, he had the pot simmering with soup. He told the manager to keep an eye on it and darted out of the room to join Stella, who was stoking the fire in the main foyer. "Any sign of people yet?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

"Apart from the homeless people already here? Not yet," Stella replied, but the words had barely left her mouth before there was a knock on the door.

The two of them leaped up and hurried towards the entrance to greet two mom-aged women. Mason assumed they were here for the soup, but they told him that they came to help out after hearing the kitchen was understaffed. He directed them to the kitchen area, where the manager was delighted to have more helping hands.

Within an hour, the place was flooded with people and the mingled scents of various soups. Mason and Stella were also handing out bread and cookies that they dug out from a box. "Thank you," said a homeless man as he took the bowl of chicken noodle Stella offered him.

"We're all so grateful," added a woman who was enjoying their French onion. "I was traveling by train, you see," she explained to Mason. "I was just passing through this town when the blizzard caught the train and it broke down. I had nowhere to stay until now."

"I'm glad you chose this place as your temporary home," Mason replied, exchanging smiles with Stella. "Looks like this was a great plan after all," he said to her in a low voice.

"What did I tell you? My crazy schemes always work out in the end," Stella whispered back, beaming at the sight of hundreds of people enjoying their food. "Also, I'm crashing at your place tonight. Your mom mentioned something about a roast dinner and I have to be there for that. I hope you know that I'll be taking all the roast potatoes."

Just as Mason began to protest, the manager hurried out of the kitchen, spotted them in the armchairs, and hurried over. "Can I talk to you two privately?" he asked.

Stella and Mason exchanged confused glances, but rose from the armchairs and followed the manager into his office. The manager shut the door behind them. Mason was beginning to wonder whether this was the part where he would murder them. "What happened?" he asked. "Did something happen to the soup?"

"No, of course not, the soup is wonderful," the manager replied. He sat down at his desk and gestured for them to do the same. He leaned forward to look them in the eyes, and upon close inspection, Mason noticed that his were sparkling. "I just wanted to thank you two for bringing the soup kitchen back to life. You've helped a lot of people today."

"Oh, it was no problem!" Stella exclaimed.

"We're just happy to help," Mason chimed in.

The manager beamed at the two of them. "You know, you two would make great employees here. How would you feel about working here? Just part-time?"

"Only if you plow a path from my house to this kitchen," Mason instantly said, shuddering at the thought of wading through so much snow again. "If you do that, I would be happy to work here."

"I second that," Stella added, looking defensive when Mason raised an eyebrow at her. "What? I was a lot colder than I played off, alright? I don't think the feeling has come back to my feet yet."

"I'll try and get something done about the snow," the manager said with a laugh, before standing up and ushering them out. "Go on, go and have a bowl of soup. You deserve it."

As Stella and Mason left the office to grab their own bowls, people began crowding around them once again, thanking them for their help. As many crazy adventures as he'd had with Stella, this was one Mason wouldn't forget anytime soon. It was amazing how much a simple soup kitchen could help so many people. Travelers, the homeless, people from all around the world. And it only took a blizzard and an adventurous friend for him to realize that the shortest day of the year could hold the most memories.