Last month I went back to my parent's home in Britain on a vacation.
On the flight back, I couldn't help but thinking about the egg tarts from the little backery across the street.
It's my childhood favorite.
Sure, you can get egg tarts these days in almost every corner of the world.
But none of them smells or tastes like the ones from that backery, at least to me.
And when I went through the front door into that old house where I grew up, that smell was there welcoming me.
My mother said: "I've just bought your favorite egg tarts. Come and have some."
Her tone was not really joyful, but neither emotionless.
What was in it was the warmth of a family to which you can always run back when you think you've had enough out there.
And I was suddenly full of tears in that moment.
Cherrish those who treat you with pure love. You don't get a lot of people like that in your life.