I am thinking of you this very moment and wishing you all the best on your special day.
No, nutella, you are tucked gently in my French memory bank.
Yes, yes, yes.
I realize that France is not the country of your birth, nutella, but it is where we met.
Do you remember our first cocoa~kiss?
A rather chilly, over-cast day at that teeny creperie near the Sorbonne. The one where poor university students go between classes to grab nourishment.
Victor Hugo and Voltaire may fill the head but the body yearns for fat and sugar.
After my return home, for the longest time I could not find you anywhere near my southern town. The memory of you danced hauntingly in every taste of milky cocoa.
The shape of your jar. The color of your logo. The smoothness of you gliding over an apple, a pear, especially on this.
The remembrance of your flavor lingered long after our first encounter.
I tried other spreads, experimenting with a few of my own, but nothing satisfied my hunger.
nutella, truly you are unparalleled.
You stand alone.
Then, when I was not even looking, there you were waiting for me here!
I nearly cried. After that I carried you with me everywhere.
Soon I found you in big cities back in the States. Finally you made your way south, past the peanut growing states, and into my Florida markets.
nutella, you are with me always now. Through hurricanes and tropical depressions. It is YOU that I store and stock in my pantry.
Do you realize how perfectly you fit into my day? Into my life? Into my locker at work?
Dearest nutella, I heart you. Today and everyday. Fat and sugar.
One and all. You so suit me. Never change. I will buy you always.
Is it enough to say no cost is too great?
I am here for you, fondly,