45/365 - Bean soup

I was raised in a time when I didn’t care I was a single child, because I was always out and about.

The door to our flat was almost never locked, anyone could come in and out without knocking. Sleepovers were a normal thing, they would happen at least once a week and I would eat meals with one neighbour or another almost every day. I had food at home, but it was more fun to wander. 

One neighbour even had a box under her doorbell button so that I could climb to ring. 

My favourite dish was traditional bean soup and I could have huge amounts of that, I still could, especially if you throw next to it an onion with salt. 

Yes, it took a village to raise me and I loved it! 

One day my neighbour from across the floor did just that (my favourite soup) and called me over. I must have been around 6-7 years old.

I ate greedily the whole, delicious bowl, but after that I had to make an exit. I don’t know how long I sat there thinking, but the next thing that came out of my mouth was: “I need to go home, because I forgot the kitchen door open!”

I don’t remember how many years I was teased with this phrase, but I reckon about a decade.