happy childhood memory revisited

toasted. buttered. pita chips on the table.
can't recall a single meal that they would accompany. the entree is irrelevant.
what matters is the salt. the smell. the pile. the searching for the buttery pieces. the few left of less butter that we ate only because we wanted more. the warmth of comfort. knowing an incredible mom loved us enough to make us from scratch. what seemed like such a treat then i see now was no great task.
simple steps. simplified goodness. simply love.