i made breakfast today, but the meal you had prepared for me this morning was far more gratifying and invigorating than my two pancakes and my glass of orange juice.
i think i understand what it means to crave your food; though i no longer have a desire to eat the rest of the bag of marshmallows on top of the toaster or the korean food waiting for me in the refrigerator, i am consumed with thoughts of sitting at your table again and, without much concern for manners or neatness, greedily feasting upon your words as you stand over me and rake helping after helping onto my plate, saying
“oh, you have to try some of this”
“you can’t leave until you take a bite of this”
“this will knock you off of your feet”
until all of your bowls are empty and you tell me to stop and digest.
the only things i remember about the shrimp i had last night are that it was spicy and good and that it cost twenty dollars, but i will never forget the way your bread rejuvenates my soul.
