If love can come in many forms, food is chief among them.
This blog came to a screeching halt a little while ago when my world was turned upside down, again, by cancer. It was my husband’s third go with the C-word, and even having experienced and “battled” it before, we were equal parts blindsided and devastated.
It unites people not only during celebratory times. Nowhere does the term “comfort food” apply more than when a meal is left on a front step in times of worry, pain, fear, sadness, and duress, accompanied by hand-written notes about oven temperatures and cooking times, heart-shapes and Xs and Os drawn in pen.
It is a genuine and simple act of caring and friendship.
Food is love, and our family is forever grateful.