I stopped by my parents’ over the weekend to visit, and walked away a recently ingested Krakowska szynka sandwich in my belly; a bag containing 4 slices of rye bread, more sandwich meat from the Polish deli, two red and two yellow onions, scallions and butter lettuce from her garden; and, last but certainly not least, a dozen pierogi.
Somehow, some way, my mother knew that I’d be in a sh*tty mood today. As if on cue, my mother’s sixth sense knew that despite my best efforts to be positive and approach everything these days with a Bring It! attitude, there would be nothing like a plate of pierogi today.
For everything in my goody bag and my belly, for not giving up being a mom who believes food is love and likes to take care of her kids, even though the youngest of them is almost 45 (me), I love my mom. Even more than I [heart] her pierogi.