Fresh from a hot bath and a good book, I walk into the kitchen and am wrapped again in warmth: the delicious aroma of garlic bread in the oven, spaghetti sauce on the stove (with lots of tomatoes and mozzarella cheese), and two happy little girls with shining, sauce-covered faces busily slurping up their noodles (spaghetti is their favorite). And starring in this scene of domestic bliss? My handsome leading man, who has become quite the cook since we moved to Germany.
I often wonder if I will ever feel truly at home here. But in this moment, as I breathed in the fragrance of good food and a happy family, I was overwhelmed by a sense of "home" that is so much more than a "place." Home is in the hearts and in the arms of the ones we love . . . and maybe also in the food that their hands lovingly prepare for us!