On a cold, winter afternoon. The snowfall burrys our front lawn yet my sister and I still try to build the biggest snowman imaginable. After finally succumbing to our frostbites, we head inside only to find a hot bowl of our Mom’s famous chicken noodle soup.

“Yes!” we both say simultaneously in excitement to seeing our favorite lunch meal. I rush to the dinner table and took a slurp of the soup. My face turns red and my eyes bulge out in realization  to the scorching spoonful that I took. I feel my tongue throb but that doesn't stop me from taking another big spoonful. The heat didn't stop me from eating my favorite meal. The perfectly size chicken pieces, fusilli noodles, and broth all mixed up making a perfect brew.

As I finish my bowl of chicken noodle soup, I graciously thank my mom, “Mom, thank you for another great meal.” As I take my last mouthful of soup, I look over to my sister and shes not even halfway done with her bowl. I now realize how fast I really ate, I felt like time was in slow-motion because of how religiously I was eating. I take my bowl to the kitchen and run back outside to make snowballs to pelt my sister with when she comes back out.