Speaking of pancakes...

My sweet Mama's birthday was yesterday, which may be contributing to the fact that I am an absolute grump about not being able to get to Connecticut for this last weekend of summer. Also, my sister and her husband just moved into their new house, and I have yet to see appropriate photo documentation (ahem) so that I can go on living vicariously through her larger-than-500 sq. ft., Pinterest-worthy domestic adventures. There is so much foot stomping going on over here.

The only cure for missing people is banana pancakes. We eat one pancake for each friend or family member we miss. (I kid. I can't even imagine how many pancakes we'd have to eat. Although, of all foods to eat in bulk...)

Some quiet mornings I just stand in the kitchen and drink in the sunshine that peeks through our living room window, the smell of coffee brewing and pancakes browning, the sound of pup snores, the familiar ache of a heart being pulled here and there and all of the little places where I've left pieces along the way. And I think, my goodness, isn't that a lucky thing? Having your heart contained solely within your own chest must be so terribly sad.

(for my mother)
(for holiday weekends in the city, or anywhere)
(for quiet)