After months of unrest and everything feeling clumsy, not quite right - there it is, the morning of our past, unexpected but cherished. We all awake with a smile and exhale. We begin breakfast, all of us moving around each other without a word, tending to our contribution. The coffee is brewing. The pancakes are on the griddle. The bacon is sitting on a paper towel, grease soaking into the stamped circles. I exhale. We gather together without thought, unintentionally. We're drawn to each other in the moments of waiting, while the bacon pops are too wild for comfort or the coffee isn't ready to be stirred yet. We look in each other's eyes and smile, saying nothing important with our words, but everything we've all needed to hear from one another in the hard moments of memory with our body language. 'I'm here. You're here. This is what we do. We drink. We eat. We cook. We laugh. We dance. We sing. We love. We kiss. We hug. We exhale.' is what our mornings spent in the kitchen say.
This post is a part of Five Minute Friday over at lisajobaker.com. 'On Fridays we silence the inner critic . . . and write on one word for five minutes.' Come write with us.
