Memories mingling with moments

I slowly drift from sleep to my comfy place in bed. The familiar aroma of fresh coffee and breakfast cooking greets me and I ๐—ฏ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ถ๐˜ ๐—ถ๐—ป.

Maybe because I’m still half asleep, my mind fills with the picture of my dad making the coffee, adding a generous sprinkle of cinnamon to the grounds before brewing them. And my mom preparing something simple yet delicious for breakfast. Sometimes it was cinnamon toast. Sometimes she made egg-in-the-middle — rye toast cooked in a fry pan with butter until it was crisp, with a perfect egg in the middle and that round piece of toast that was carved out with the top of a glass to make room for the egg being the best part. I smile at this happy core memory from childhood, one that continued into adulthood anytime I spent time at my family home.

Then, fully awake, I smile again as I absorb a relatively new and beautiful core memory. It is my son, who graduated college in May, who is downstairs creating all of these familiar and soul-filling scents. ๐—œ ๐—ฏ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—บ ๐—ถ๐—ป.

My mind pictures the little boy for whom I used to make cinnamon toast and egg-in-the-middle. And then I envision my young man making french-press coffee and frying up scrambled eggs his special way. He has to be at work early today and although he knows Iโ€™d be more than happy to do this for him (and in fact, on most days I am the one making coffee and preparing breakfast), he wanted to let me sleep.

So I awaken slowly and sweetly, cozy memories mingling with moments – new memories being created. And I ๐—ฏ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ถ๐˜ ๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐—ฎ๐—ด๐—ฎ๐—ถ๐—ป, with so much gratitude and love in my heart.

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