Pizza is for one of our first dates, at Gino's East, with a Groupon.
Pizza is for after grocery shopping, even when we've got plenty of food, but shopping is enough work for one night.
Pizza is for cheat day that one summer we followed a really strict meal plan.
Pizza is for every single one of my husband's birthdays, even that one birthday when I threw him a surprise party.
Pizza is for our first Valentine's Day together, the day we first said "I love you."
Pizza is for compromise. If I call, he pays.
Pizza is for the last night in my old apartment, before I moved in to our home together. Sitting on the floor of my empty living room with a candle for light and a cardboard box for a table.
Pizza is for solving conflicts and ending disagreements. Some of our hardest days have ended in pizza.
Pizza is for "one last bad meal before we get back on track."
Pizza is for our wedding day, surrounded by everyone we love, humbled by their grace in our lives.
Pizza is for the next few days after our wedding too, since we were lucky enough to bring home a couple of boxes.
But now, consistently, when grading and lesson plans are done, and the chores for the weekend are checked off the list, our old friend pizza is for Sundays.