I have a confession.

I have a weakness for Nutella crepes.  Could you all promise me something?  If you ever go to Rome, get a Nutella crepe.  Your life will never be the same.  Once you walk through old Roman streets, attempting to gracefully eat a melted glob of wonderfulness without getting Nutella all over the front of your shirt, your life will be different forever.

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You’ll be able to bite into a homemade Nutella crepe on your couch, 5,000 miles away from that Roman street, close your eyes, and be instantly transported back.  You’ll be able to feel the crisp spring evening air, hear the laughter of your friends, feel the weightlessness of heading home after a long day of class.  You’ll hear the buses struggle by, loaded down by their human cargo, swaying as they rumble over the cobblestones.

Or maybe it’s just me.

There’s something about Nutella– especially warm Nutella– that takes me back every time.  I suppose because it’s the one thing that can be closely duplicated in the States.  Gelato isn’t the same.  Ditto for pasta, pizza, and coffee.  But nutella– it’s there.  The taste.  The warm wonderfulness.

So, please, have a crepe when you’re over there.  It would make me really happy.

Thank you.

note: the picture above was taken by my dear friend Katy, who is entering a religious order called the Familia Spiritualis Opus, “the Work,” in Austria tomorrow morning– Austrian time, just a few hours from now.  Please keep her and her family in your prayers!
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