got together before,
thrived during,
and deepened after.
the world had gone quiet,
streets hushed,
time slowed to a simmer.
we measured days in drinking,
and nights in being together.
that summer,
while you worked,
i found a passion
in building a home —
a craft i had overlooked before.
i baked with my heart,
and cooked with my soul.
my mother was stupefied —
i never, not once,
helped her in my life.
even the way i peeled potatoes
was apparently a crime.
but then,
i created specialties,
dishes from all over the world,
setting time aside each day
to warm your heart
with two courses,
and desserts.
that fire still lives.
i’m so **** good
at what i do —
because food is my love language,
and when i cook,
it’s all for you.
this one is about the summer we became us.
August 12, 2025
