The art of making bread is tedious, daunting and it is extremely risky. Believe you me, I have baked loaves unfit to be bitten, loaves so thick they could be mistaken for bricks and loaves that were weirdly salty… But then magic happened… you sponge the yeast, you knead the flour… just when you think it won't ever come together, it becomes a perfect ball of white… you toil over it. you knead it you push it, you fold it… and then gently as you touch the dough and it springs back, you jump with joy…. you cover it, you watch over it, you feel ever so delighted that the dough doubled in size… you patiently wait for it to rise just enough, to knock it back in and shape it… you sprinkle sesame seeds, eggwash it and then you stick it in the oven. and then the house smells of yeast, flour and your oven, it holds a lovely brown loaf… shining even… but the greatest joy, it is the moment where you slice the loaf and taste the bread, still warm and spongy inside, crusty on the outside and you feel happy… 'i made bread! and you thought bread was very difficult to make!' i say to mom. Give me the ability to savour everything I do in my life in a similar fashion… Give me the ability to take on tough challenges and enjoy working through them, just as I enjoyed the process of baking bread… and give me that chance to look at my loved one's and say, 'they say its impossible but i could do it,' just to see the pride sparkle in their eyes…