Gemotions

"Is this my favorite?" I asked, looking at the plate of *pierogi* my wife, Maria, had made. They sat on the table between us and steamed in the early evening light. Her mother’s recipes were some of the most intricate and difficult to master, and I knew how long this had taken her.

“Smacznego!” she replied, her voice filled with a warmth that went straight to my core. She then continued, "How was your day, darling?" in Polish.

I had been traveling a lot with work lately, and I knew she missed me. This meal, the language, were a way to show me she cared. Tears welled in my eyes. I pushed them away and began to eat, appreciating every bite.