How many meals have we shared
Where there was something between us
An irk, an ick, an ill
An almost unnoticeable undercurrent to the civility, smiles, and conversations

How many meals have we shared
Where there was something between us
A dipping sauce, a dressing, a condiment
That when added to our respective dishes
Accented your life and mines

A steaming bowl of noodle soup arrives in front of you and another one for me
A microclimate of fragrance and humidity sits just above both our bowls
As we lean over and allow that warm cloud to hug both our heads
I take a sip of mine, as do you
And you take a sip of mine, as I to yours

As we do this dance over this table
We cross over a smaller bowl that sits between us that holds something else
A smaller bowl that holds something distilled from the vastness of nature
An essence that is essential
In your bowl and mines

Some say that without this condiment, there is no dish
A condiment that is not a “side”, it is not “optional”
The waitress does not ask if you’d like it or not
There is no dish without the condiment
And there is no condiment without the dish
Both are essential.

So as we gently lace our soups
We indulge in this warmth that we let inside us
That allows us to savour all that is between us
All that does not keep us apart
But rather reminds us of the essence we share.