Life of Pie — Pizza Pie

When a significant amount of time passes, you’re suddenly able to see clearly again the cherished moments you had muddled with the bad. You can now separate the two and fondly remember what made you smile all that time ago.

As corny as it sounds, this frozen pizza has done that for me: turned on a light where I had kept so many wonderful rememberings in the dark, because of pain.

A while ago, in what seems like forever, there was a time when things were less complicated. With a few dollars to our name, we’d frequently buy pizzas — whether frozen or of the discounted variety (think Caesar’s $5 pizzas). We’d spruce these bland pies with avocado and drown each slice in hot sauce for extra flavor. Most nights were spent this way — nothing more than a box of pizza and a movie.

Maybe it was the position of not having much that made us so appreciative, but at that time, things were somehow perfect. Moving forward as an adult, not needing to live off of cheap pizza anymore, things have somehow become more complex and regrettably disappointing.

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to those days, when life only needed a little bit of hot sauce to be exciting and wonderful. Now, it seems nothing is enough to bring my life flavor, and I’m stuck in a routine that casts a dark shadow on what was once so valuable to me. Between bills, lonely independence and lurking thoughts of the uncertain future, I would like the simplicity of frozen pizza again; maybe then I could find appreciation for where I’m currently at — a small slice of peace and comfort.