Dear Pizza, When I celebrated my sixth birthday, you were there. Mostly smeared on my shirt, but you were there. When I was 19 + suffered through my first breakup, you were there, a hot + fresh solace. Then a lukewarm solace. Then a cold solace. But solace all the same. When I was 23 + working two jobs, you were there, in the passenger seat of my car, quick + cheesy sustenance between gigs. When I got married, you were not there. But you did buy some hand towels off the gift registry. I still use them. Thanks! Now that I am officially an Old, I’ve been told to see you less often. They don’t know what they’re talking about, Pizza, because now that you’re in Squishy form, you can remain by my side forever, without the oil stains!