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)
