Pink Pizzelle

mom and dad and one pink pizzelleIt's Saturday afternoon and I'm sitting on my new purple desk chair (my bum is happy) eating a pink Pizzelle, and sipping some hot chocolate (my tum is happy).  Today I find myself reflecting on one of life's most precious commodities, time.  I really never thought about time too much before other than trying to be on time which I have to admit I struggle with.

Recently though I couldn't help but to notice how annoyed I have been getting over things that aren't really a big deal.  Simple occurrences such as getting stuck behind a slow driver without the ability to pass; working on an assignment that took 3 times as long because of inefficiency; my boyfriend who is currently working on his PhD has understandably little time to spend working on "us"; my youngest son forgot something he needed for baseball which required me to have to return home to retrieve it taking much needed time away from my business.  When I examined each occurrence, I realized there was one common denominator - time.  I was upset because I felt like I either had wasted my time, there wasn't enough time, I ran out of time, I wasn't given the time, or I spent too much time.  

Time.  It's ticking away.  You cannot control time and you cannot recover time - once it's gone, it's gone.  You can't manufacture and sell time either (geez Imagine if I could? Cha Ching!).  So now what?  What do I do with this new found realization that time is much more important to my psyche than I previously thought, and until we are able to travel back and forth in time, my time, by far is my greatest most precious commodity.  And what does all this have to do with a Pink Pizzelle anyway?

When I was a young girl I spent a lot of time with my Mother making Pizzelles.  I have beautiful memories of her and I in the kitchen of the home I grew up in standing together around an old kitchen table.  She would set an egg timer as she poured a spoonful of batter onto the Pizzelle iron and when it buzzed, she would pull the cookies off the iron and cool them on the rack. She taught me all her tricks on how to make this delicious Italian cookie. That time in my life is long gone. She is gone.  All that remains are the memories.  So as I eat my pink Pizzelle I feel her love and remember the devotion she had for her children, and the gift of time she shared with us.

Time.  Don't use it, abuse it, or misuse it. Treat it as the special commodity it is. When we can get to that place in our lives where we don't need to fill it in order to find our value and self worth in it, we will no longer need to control it. That is the place where we will finally find peace and be able to enjoy it. By the way, hot chocolate goes really well with pink Pizzelles. 


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