My father taught me how to eat breakfast those mornings when it was my turn to help him milk the cows. I loved rising up from the darkness and coming quietly down the stairs while the others were still sleeping. I’d take a bowl from the cupboard, a spoon from the drawer, and slip into the pantry where he was already eating spoonfuls of cornflakes covered with mashed strawberries from our own strawberry fields forever. Didn’t talk much—except to mention how good the strawberries tasted or the way those clouds hung over the hay barn roof. Simple—that’s how we started up the day. |
A simple start to the day with a loved one is so comforting. What is your favorite morning ritual?