Thursdays are for pasta.

Sauce made from scratch,

Pasta too, if we’re being ambitious.

As we chop garlic, sprinkle oregano,

Crush pepper, slice tomatoes-

We converse.

Anecdotes about work, minor grips about coworkers.

The ritual of it, the feel of it.

The scheduled bonding;

A brief interlude from the mundane,

While doing something so mundane,

Cooking.

The reaffirming, the reconnecting, the reinvigorating of relationship.

There is nothing so beautiful to me,

Than when you join me or I join you.

Zita, gnocchi, tortellini, spaghetti.

The dishes remain the same, the vibes never do.

Always new, always fresh.

Robust.