• The poetry of details

Why I eat pizza in the morning.


For those who know me in real life, there's no secret I'm addicted to pizza. And for those who scrolled quickly in my Instagram feed - it's not hard to find out that I eat a lot of pizza. Pizza is my comfort food. If I'm sad, there's always pizza. If I'm happy, I celebrate with pizza. It doesn't matter the hour of the day or night. I can not say "no" to pizza.


My addiction to food comes from my childhood. My mom made the best pizza in the world. She made the best food in the world - and I'm not biased when writing this. It's a known fact in our family. There were numerous discussions when we were eating her home-cooked meals - on Christmas, for Easter lunch, for a birthday. If she was in charge of cooking the food, the event was going to be a success. Because she was the one who could turn everything in art; she could boil an egg, and it tasted better than food in any restaurant awarded with Michelin stars - and this was a compliment from friends and family who traveled the world and ate food at the most expensive and famous places.


I remember my uncle traveling for 25 minutes by car to drink a coffee prepared by mom. If by any chance, he would come around noon - he stayed for lunch. And there were a lot of times when he "had meetings in your city, and it just happened that to finished just now." My mom always smiled and insisted for him to stay and eat lunch with us. She knew he was addicted to her food also - and that had nothing to do with his wife being a terrible cook. Nope, that's not the case. My aunt prepares delicious meals and throws the best parties in our family. But there was always something special when my mom prepared lunch - with meat, vegetarian or vegan - everyone was drolling before even testing it. And she somehow managed to find the secret recipe when it comes to adjusting to everyone's taste. If a friend she hasn't seen in years was in town, she opened the door from our house and food was on the table. Everyone felt like a special guest, whenever one was crossing the threshold of our door. "You did this especially for me?" the guest would ask. "No, I didn't know you were coming. That's how I cook for my family", she used to reply, with a soft and caring voice. "It is delicious. You should open a restaurant. You're one of a kind." My mom accepted the compliment with shyness in her voice, saying that she loves seeing people happy. "My kids are so adorable whenever they thank me for lunch, that I love them even more. And I know my husband always need a bit more salt in his meals" - she used to add laughing - "that I don't even wait for him to taste it. I know how to take care of these three."


Growing up, we never skipped a meal - my mom was very focused on that, and we thought she has some superpowers. Everything was magical or - as she used to say - she always added love in every meal. I remember one morning she woke my brother up and asking to get ready for school quicker because there was pizza for breakfast. It was no special occasion, in was a day during a typical week in our life, and my mom turned it into a fairy tale. It's an extraordinary feeling to wake up and know that you are loved. Know that no matter what happened in the days before, the sun is shining again and you have the opportunity to be happy. You have the chance to be a better person that you were the day before. You get to treat people with kindness and appreciation because you received a new day you can cherish. You can make someone smile, just by being a person who cares about someone else with a whole-hearted genuine love.


Tomorrow is my birthday, and although my mom is not around, she made sure I will be starting the day with joy. Someone else will be preparing breakfast for me, and I couldn't be more thankful for I have found people who love me unconditionally. I indeed am the lucky one.



Happy birthday to me!

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