Spaghetti and Meatballs Like Mom’s but in Half the Time

After I moved into my first apartment, my mom would call on a daily basis. Not to confirm her love for me, or just to say hi. She called to make sure I was eating—regularly. The woman was desperately worried that, as an adult with new adult responsibilities, I would forget how to care for myself. Truth is, though, I appreciated those calls. There were weeks when I existed solely by the grace of takeout menus. Thinking I had no time to cook for myself, I missed my mother’s home-cooking even more and her phone calls helped curb a bit of that longing. Continue reading