In Mourning

Today I weep. I waited and planned for this day with such tender care. I designed the craft and gathered my tools. The mozzarella was smooth and fresh; I sliced it lovingly. I chose my first tomatoes of the summer from the farmers' market, marveling at the thinness of their skin and the sweetness of their swollen flesh. At just the right moment, I plucked fresh basil leaves from the backyard garden and breathed in their heady aroma. All was set. All was ready. Let the feast begin.

But the last piece, the one to bring it all together, the crust, was never meant to be. A misunderstanding led to a frantic plan B which led, to my dismay, to a substitute that could never withstand the weight of such a summer bouquet. How disappointing to lose such a dream just before it came to fruition. One that's been desired and anticipated for so long! A winter of waiting dashed by a simple turn of events.

So my sweet, aborted pizza, I weep for you and for the summer celebration quelched by your sudden absence. More summers and more pizzas will come, it's true, but on that one special July evening you were all I wanted. All I needed. You.