Sharing is Caring

Walking up to that old soup kitchen definitely brought back memories. I remember coming here with Aunt Beth to pick up May when I got out of school… and I remember being here for 72 hours straight after Beth died, just to feel like I was doing something right.

Every smile I was flashed, every hungry stomach filled, Aunt May taught me that places like this is where the real heroes are. We don’t need capes or super powers or anything like that… we just needed community, and love, for ourselves and one another. To this day, I don’t say the spider-bite is the reason I became a super hero, I always say it’s because of my Aunt May, and this soup kitchen.

I take a deep breath, and let a small smile grow on my face, before I push myself into the building. The door opens and I am immediately met with a sort of comforting chaos, customers screaming and yelling at each other, plates being run and cleaned, the smell of delicious foods being made from scratch. My Aunt May ran a whole “no processed foods” campaign in her second year here, and ever since this place has always been busy.

I pushed myself into the dining area where I was almost immediately run over by some kids playing in the isles. As I walked I was already asked questions about getting seconds, and handed dirty dishes like they knew I was going to work here. I just rolled my eyes and made my way to the back room, to meet the most amazing woman in the world, and the only one who could deal with all of this…

“Hey Aunt May!”

As soon as I spoke Aunt May whipped herself around from the stove, where she was cooking her famous jambalaya, and her face got bright and smiley as she quickly threw off her oven mitts and ran up to me, throwing her arms around me in a great big bear hug that could cure all wounds.

“Petra! Oh my lord! It has been so long darling!” She says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as she pulls herself back and looks me up and down like she hasn’t seen me in years.

“May… we did dinner last weekend.” I say with a chuckle, as I walk past her towards the locker room, teasing, but with a big smile on my face.

“Yeah! And that is still too long!” She yells at me across the kitchen as she returns back to the stove. “I used to change your diapers sweet cheeks, don’t think you can get rid of me that easily!” When she made those sorts of comments they were always a bit humiliating, sure, but over time I came to realize it’s just how she shows she cares, and it’s all out of love.

Within a couple seconds I had returned onto the main floor in a completely changed outfit, an apron on, hair up, and ready to work.

“I always admire how quickly you get dressed.” Aunt May says, raising an eyebrow slightly, which just makes me giggle and blush a little bit.

“Tons of practice, May. What you need me to do?”

At first things started easy with back of house stuff. I was in charge of doing dishes, making sure materials were stocked, and stirring the occasional pot whenever May got a bit too tired. It was nice, cheerful, and overall just a bit of fun.

But as time went by and things got a bit more rowdy in the dining area they of course sent the young blood to deal with it. I became in charge of running food, collecting dirty dishes, and breaking up the occasional fight. Most of them were petty, a stolen salt shaker, someone took the wrong straw, nothing really to worry about. I just had to calm a couple people down, until they sat and played nice again. That is until-

“I don’t need your fucking help you dumb tramp!”