By: Amy Tran


The soup is sweet and spicy 
and bright orange and red. 
We call the soup “Sweetie.”
The soup is like nothing I have eaten before. 
It tastes like it has a lot of garlic in it. 
I am at home eating with my mom, dad and brother. 
Mom is wearing a blue tee shirt and blue jeans, 
Dad is wearing navy blue shorts and a green t-shirt. 
My brother is wearing blue jeans and a blue tee. 
We all look out the window next to our glass circular table
and we watch the sunset. It is orange and red, 
the sky above it is blue, purple, orange and red. 
Suddenly the room is quiet. 
Everybody is shocked by the prettiness of the sunset, 
sitting perfectly still, like statues. 
My mother has her spoon halfway to her mouth 
and her lips are apart but she doesn’t move. 
The yellow wall behind us turns the color of the sky. 
The soup and my family’s faces have a similar orange glow. 
We watch the sun sink and suddenly I remember 
a story my grandmother told me about eating pho 
by the ocean, 
watching the end of a day. 
My family was in Ho Chi Min city in Vietnam 
listening to the noises of the cars and motor scooters 
whizzing past. 
Their soup was sweet and salty and very spicy 
and they all slurped the noodles making their lips tingle. 
When the sunset is over we go back to the soup. 
The soup is so creamy. 
The flavor explodes in my mouth. 
I keep hearing the spoons clinking on the bowl 
and the slurping of my mom, dad, and brother 
eating the soup.