One of my fondest memories will always be one morning when I left my house for work. Hanging on my garden gate was a simple grocery bag. Wrapped in many layers of foil was a loaf of homemade bread. A simple loaf of bread.....but I saw it as a profoundly tender gesture; to make bread for someone is such a personal act. I never knew a man who could even make bread much less share it with me ! I saw it as not just as a gift of bread, but sharing a moment of ones life. It was an act that brought joy to my life. That loaf of bread was better than any gift that any amount of money could buy. That was the day I realized that I loved Larry. I don't for one minute confuse a loaf of bread with an act of love. But I see in that bread what I need in a man...warm, simple and true; nourishment for the heart and soul.
3 comments:
He made you bread? With his own bare hands? Kneading and rising and kneading and rising? Not simple bread-machine bread? Wow.
Even if it was bread-machine bread, I know my fiance would yell as loud as she can, "KEEP HIM!"
I never made her bread, though I do some pretty fancy cooking for her fairly often.
I'm betting she will thank you for continuing to make the next 96 posts instructional for men everywhere.
Bread from scratch no less...some of the remaining 96 are not publishable (if thats a word)..but drop by again, more to come. Thanks again for the comment! Pat
Pat,
Great idea for a blog and some lovely writing already. Love the evocativeness of your words.
-Wendi
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