Breaking the Spaghetti

I only ever remember my mom snapping spaghetti in half and dumping it in the boiling water.

When I got married, my husband told me this was a grievous sin; the pasta must never be broken.

I’ve made spaghetti dozens and dozens of times since learning how to put the pasta in the water whole.

So many times I’ve thought of my mom, the crack of that pasta, the reasons she did it that way. Was it because my dad always cut up his spaghetti to eat it? Was it too short a pot?

Why did she break the spaghetti?

There are times when you can slow down and be meticulous and wait for the pasta to gently fall into the water.

And there are other times when the pasta simply needs cooked.

Maybe that was it. Maybe my mom just needed the pasta cooked. With all of life swirling constantly around and three hungry kids and a five o’clock dinnertime, maybe there wasn’t time for gently softening pasta.

I forget sometimes what luxury looks like.

Tonight as I patiently awaited the falling of pasta into water, I enjoyed the luxury of the moment.

It’s a lovely thing to push pause and relive a lifetime of spaghetti making in the decision whether to break the pasta. Unlike my husband and likely millions others, I don’t believe breaking the pasta is a sin. I believe keeping it whole is a privilege.

Take your life lessons, your luxuries, your privileges where you can find them. I do.

What say you?

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