A Ritual interrupted
This morning at 5:39 am I woke to the sound of water running through the pipes in the walls and the sound of cabinets opening an closing in the distance, in the kitchen. I heard voices and activity. The boys are up, my brain sleepily observed. I opened my eyes, looking toward the alarm clock, noted the time, and raising an eyebrow because it was pre-alarm time.
A few minutes later the boys arrived at my bedside with paper plates wobbling from the load of buttered toast and a cut up granny smith apple, and a glass of orange juice in hand. The apple was laid out in a perfect semi-circle, all the wedges facing the same direction.
The boys were dressed, all except their shoes.
They were smiling, love-sparkling eyes shining.
Wow.
"We just wanted to bring you breakfast in bed because we love you."
My hugs for these guys will never run out.
A few minutes later the boys arrived at my bedside with paper plates wobbling from the load of buttered toast and a cut up granny smith apple, and a glass of orange juice in hand. The apple was laid out in a perfect semi-circle, all the wedges facing the same direction.
The boys were dressed, all except their shoes.
They were smiling, love-sparkling eyes shining.
Wow.
"We just wanted to bring you breakfast in bed because we love you."
My hugs for these guys will never run out.
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