STRAWBERRIES FOR BREAKFAST
The preparations began around 10,00 this morning. Later than I had hoped or planned. I had actually awoken at 7,00 and tried to read at least three pages of the book I’ve been reading for the past few weeks, but found my eyes wanted to keep shut for a while longer. So, I let them, as I laid the book down on my bed and went back to sleep.
Though I knew I could use more sleep, that would have to wait for another day. My girls were coming to breakfast at 11,00 and there were buttermilk pancakes to be made. As I set about to measure the dry ingredients in one bowl and separate the eggs into two different bowls, I panicked that I had not had time to go get fresh strawberries. The ones in the fridge just wouldn’t do as they were nearing the unusable stage. I really needed strawberries for breakfast.
A Sunday without strawberries is an uncommon occurrence in our house. It was akin to having fresh flowers on the table, albeit the berries we could eat. Once my son dragged himself from the deep slumber of his comfy bed, I let him know I needed to go to the store really quickly. It was 10,30 and all of the ingredients were measured, the butter melted and cooling, and the egg whites ready to be whipped.
The trip to HEB was the quickest I had ever made. I made it back home in less than half an hour with only three items: blueberries, lemon, and the strawberries. Unfortunately, this is not Europe where we can run to the shop around the corner and be back in five minutes. So, 30 minutes is rather quick. As I was changing back into my home clothes, my son called out that he heard his sisters at the door.
‘You’re on time!’ I exclaimed. Somehow, I had assumed they would be late, as usual. Years of being conditioned for lateness had taught me to never expect them to make it on time for anything. This was progress.
‘Have you made the pancakes?’, asked my older daughter. I’m not sure if she noticed the ingredients scattered in various bowls on the counter to the right of the stove.
‘No, but it won’t take long to mix it all together’, I let her know. I sensed a bit of disappointment but their brother came to the rescue and kept them busy for half an hour until everything was ready. He brought out his Oculus Quest – now named Meta Quest, to everyone’s disliking – and the girls had fun playing Job Simulator. I heard Saffron exclaiming how much fun it was as this was her first experience with virtual reality. Her sister had fun as well.
At least three pancakes were ‘tested’ before we all sat down for our special Sunday breakfast. It was a real treat to have all four of us back at the breakfast table today, and I hope there will be many more meals shared in the future.
‘Why are your pancakes so good?’, my younger daughter asked. ‘They are really the best I’ve ever had’, she exclaimed. I smiled and enjoyed watching them devour the entire plateful, except the two that I sent home with them.
After breakfast, the kids returned to playing Job Simulator whilst I set about to make chocolate chip cookies. I also had my younger daughter help me take the mirror down from my large dresser. The one still in the living room. I had wanted it in my room for the past year but couldn’t move it into the bedroom without removing the mirror. It was a bit heavy for her but we managed to get it down. The rest I would be able to do by myself as time permitted.
Once I returned to making the cookies, I noticed my younger daughter wander into the kitchen and look at the contents of the pantry and the fridge. I know at some point I need to organise it. Perhaps this summer.
‘You always have food’, she observed. I agree. My pantry was full of ingredients to make anything and the fridge had almost everything desired. She took out a jar of the small German pickles, the cornichons - her favourite – and ate one.
‘Is that a bad thing?’, I asked. ‘Don’t you have food?’.
‘We have soups, but I don’t always want to eat soup’, she explained. I knew they had more than just soups. She did mention sometimes having strawberry yogurt in the fridge which is usually fed to her little sister in the mornings.
‘Can I come to eat later in the week before my dance performances’, my daughter inquired.
‘Of course!’, I exclaimed. She didn’t need to ask, as both her and her sister are always welcome to come over. My home will always be their home. I told her that I will make her favourite meal when she comes, which made us both happy.
Three hours after they arrived, it was time for them to leave. I drove them to their other home, grateful to have had the pleasure of their company at our Sunday breakfast table. All four of us, reunited once again.
