New Year's Eve. Ryan was still here — last night of his leave. We stayed up with Mom and Dad, ate the appetizer spread (the annual finger food production), and watched the ball drop. At midnight, Ryan kissed me and Dad kissed Mom and for one second, the Abernathy house held two couples and thirty-five years of love between them and the New Year arrived into a room that smelled like spinach artichoke dip and sounded like the TV and felt like home.
Ryan left this morning. January 1st, 6 AM, because he has to be back at Lejeune by noon. I stood in the driveway in my pajamas and a coat and watched his truck disappear down the street and felt the specific emptiness that military families know — the house that's suddenly too big, the chair that's suddenly empty, the silence that's suddenly loud.
Mom appeared behind me with coffee. She didn't say anything. She just stood there. Because she knows this emptiness. She's lived in it for twenty-two years.
'Does it get easier?' I asked.
'No,' she said. 'You get stronger.'
That's the Donna Abernathy motto. Nothing gets easier. You get stronger. It should be on a bumper sticker. It should be on the wall of every base housing unit in the country.
2018 resolutions:
1. Get married (already scheduled, feels weird to call it a resolution)
2. Cook at least one meal a week from the recipe cards
3. Start writing again — the journal Ryan gave me is still blank and that feels wrong
4. Survive the move to Lejeune
5. Don't lose myself in someone else's life
Number five is the scary one. I've watched military wives disappear into their husbands' careers — lose their names, lose their identities, become 'Corporal Abernathy's wife' instead of Rachel. Mom didn't disappear. Mom kept her kitchen and her church and her recipe binder and her stubbornness. But it took effort. It took intention. And I'm twenty years old and I don't know if I have enough of either.
Mom made her lentil soup tonight — the January health kick, round two. Red lentils, cumin, turmeric, lemon. It'll last three days. She'll give up by the 20th and make chicken fried steak. I know the pattern.
But for now: soup. Quiet house. Empty driveway. Seventy-two days until the wedding.
2018. The year I become someone's wife.
Please God, let me also stay someone's daughter.
After Ryan’s truck disappeared down the street and the house went quiet, Mom’s lentil soup was exactly what the evening needed—something warm and steady, something that fills a kitchen with the smell of cumin and turmeric and says we’re still here. She makes this every January without fail, her version of starting over, and it’s the kind of recipe that lasts three days in the fridge and asks nothing of you except a pot and a little patience. Here’s how she makes it.
Mom’s Red Lentil Soup
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 large yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
- 1 1/2 cups red lentils, rinsed and picked over
- 1 tablespoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
- 6 cups vegetable broth
- 1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes
- 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- Juice of 1 large lemon (about 3 tablespoons)
- Fresh cilantro or parsley, for serving
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and carrots and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
- Toast the spices. Stir in the cumin, turmeric, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Cook for 30 seconds until fragrant, stirring constantly so the spices don’t burn.
- Add lentils and liquid. Add the rinsed red lentils, vegetable broth, and diced tomatoes with their juices. Stir to combine and bring to a boil.
- Simmer until tender. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20–25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the lentils have broken down and the soup is thick and creamy.
- Season and finish. Remove from heat. Stir in the lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. For a smoother soup, use an immersion blender to partially blend, leaving some texture.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh herbs. Keeps in the refrigerator for up to 3 days and freezes well for up to 3 months.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 265 | Protein: 15g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 680mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 93 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
