Wisdom

My mother believed in breakfast. She believed in breakfast as the most important meal of the day. She believed it and lived it. If any one of us asked for a hot breakfast, on any day of the week, she’d be at the stove whipping up silver dollar pancakes, french toast or eggs of any kind. She’d serve it up and then sit right there with us as we ate. I ate my eggs differently back then, no fork needed. I’d pick up one of those Wonder Bread triangles and poke it right into that yoke. Prior to each bite, I’d dip, swirl, and coat that next bite of toast in the yoke. Once the bread was gone and the yoke sufficiently dipped-dry, I’d be done and I’d pass that plate right over to my mom who’d put it on a piece of “her” thin sliced, Weight Watchers bread. She believed in breakfast and, not wasting food.

Thanks to my mother, I, too, believe in breakfast and not wasting food. I still prefer the egg yoke over the egg white, but unlike my younger self, I don’t head straight to my favorite part when I sit down. No, these days, I cut at the white, bit by bit, leaving that golden yoke. With each dip, like my younger self, I soak up that deliciousness with “my” thin sliced, Dave’s Killer bread, savoring every bite. In the end, my plate is clean and my taste buds satisfied.

I guess, over time, I’ve gained the “wisdom”, shall I say, to not always cut straight to the good stuff but to savor each every bite along the way.

My Mom at her 80th Birthday ready to savor her cake. 12/7/22