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My lovely wife, bless her, makes bread. Not just any bread. Challah, a traditional Jewish egg bread that we eat to welcome in the Sabbath on Friday night. All together now: Yum!
I snapped this particularly lovely loaf as it was cooling on top of the stove. Our daughter helped make it this time - no one does sesame seeds quite like she does - and the house was soothingly quiet as we waited for it to be ready. The kitchen smelled oh so perfect, and a quick glance to the right revealed a snowy scene reflected in the moonlight just outside the frost-covered window.
It may seem trivial, but small, perfect moments like this make me realize just how lucky we are to have what we have. And to think all it took to open my eyes was a simple loaf of bread.
Your turn: The bread was gone by breakfast. When should we make the next one?