Pizza Still Spells Love
it’s an understanding
I married my husband because he makes the BEST pizza. It’s true.
This summer, I had mouth surgery twice. I had inherited really bad teeth and needed to have everything pulled. They recently went back in for bone shards. So, twice, my gums have been stitched up like a craft project.
I dreamed of my favorite food: the texture, the taste. It was hard to live without. However, when I started visualizing it, I knew I was in trouble.
I couldn’t handle homemade crusts. So twice a week, pizza and garlic knots arrived from my favorite restaurant.
In my home, pizza is a love language. An understanding. A gift.