Hot bread has a taste of the homeland

**The Breath of the Homeland in Hot Bread**

The smell of hot tandoor bread that burned my hand in the morning reminded me of the hot breath of the Homeland.

"Hello, has the bread arrived?" - I asked early in the morning when I entered the bakery.

"Yes, here it is, they just brought it. I can't put it in a glue bag, it will melt it," - the baker said, handing over two loaves of bread. "Be careful, don't burn your hands, it's very hot."

"Very hot"... As soon as I left the store, this word didn't leave my ears. What is hotter than bread in this world? The sun? No, staying under the sun for a long time is also harmful. Or hot tea? No, hot tea burns your tongue! Maybe it's a mother's embrace, a father's joy, the love of the Homeland... Yes, the love of the Homeland. But it cannot be measured by the temperature of the sun or the heat of boiling tea. The warmth of the homeland warms the soul and makes the heart happy. Since this warmth is eternal in the heart, no matter where a person goes, no matter how far away he is from it, there is a place to which he wants to return. It is the Motherland!

Sometimes, big events are not necessary to think about the Motherland. It is enough to go out the door in the morning, cross a familiar street, see a person greeting you on the way, hear a word in their own language. For example, reading the slogan "One Motherland, one people, let's create a new life and future!" hung on our beloved streets, we imagine the countless changes that Uzbekistan has achieved in 35 years, the beauty of the environment, the majesty of mountains and rocks. We enjoy the laughter of children playing in the sand near our house. We do not worry about the safety of students, the carefree walking of young people, and the fearless going to work of our parents. And the suffering we suffer from lack of water and bread is beyond our imagination. Because we believe that if we work, we will be able to buy goods and delicacies without any problems. Because our country is peaceful.

We do not even think about the possibility of an explosion somewhere or someone getting injured. Thankfully, harmony reigns in our country. Let it not be seen. There is no power struggle or war like in some countries. We have enough wealth to be praised. The main thing is that our will is in our hands, and it is a great happiness to live knowing its value.

You know, we see this happiness of peace every day. It breathes with us. When we open the door in the morning, it welcomes us. When we return home in the evening, it embraces us. Where life is peaceful, a child laughs carefree, a mother shows calm affection, and a father makes plans for tomorrow.

As for us, we often take the wonders before our eyes for granted. We look up at the sky and are not amazed by its purity. We are accustomed to people hurrying around on the streets, the bustle of trade in the markets, the ringing of bells in schools, and the labor in the fields. In fact, each of these is a small but valuable and valuable sign of a peaceful life.

Loving one's homeland probably begins with appreciating these simple things. It is not necessary to kiss its soil, take lofty oaths, or repeat the word "Homeland" every day. Doing your job sincerely, not betraying someone else's rights, protecting the trees on the street, holding a child by the hand and crossing the road, respecting the elderly, and preserving a word in your native language are all manifestations of love for the Motherland.

The Motherland is not defined by the borders on the map. The light that shone through our window that morning, the smell of hot bread coming from the oven, our mother's one word, "my son," the streets we ran through as children, the voice of our first teacher... no matter where we go, it is still the destination we miss. That is why love for the Motherland cannot be measured. It cannot be determined by the temperature, distance, or years. It is in the heart of a person. This warmth in the heart will one day make us miss that morning, that bakery, that familiar street again...

With these thoughts, I took two warm loaves of bread in my hand and left the bakery. I realized deep down that the warmth of the bread warms my hands, and the warmth of the Motherland gives me strength for the rest of my life.

Zulfizar Mavlonova