Our plates slide across the table, the kind of breakfast that can be had almost anywhere in North America. This one, assembled with panache at the Astronomical Pancake House in Williamsburg, Virginia: two eggs over-easy, slivered hash browns, bacon strips, crispy toast. Everything with just the right amount of burnt. Coffee poured from outer space in a stretching line into our mugs.
You twirl through the condiment cage: grape jelly, peanut butter, marmalade. Eureka! There's a strawberry packet at the bottom. You peel it open, spread with gusto on the bread, take a deep gibbous moon bite. I watch you, amused. Maybe it reminds you of your mother's summer jam, something you've forgotten you miss.
It's not my practice but I dip my knife and scrape the last jellied edges of jam, wanting to taste what you taste. Sunlight refracts through the window, sparking ruby galaxies from another time and space, when the boys were young and we were still together here on earth: meandering a mountain slope, picking wild alpine strawberries, preserving such tiny morning sweetness on our tongues.
Author's Note:
Self-care is coming home to myself, much the same as if returning from a long journey. Stepping into arrivals, seeing a loved one's smile in the crowd, familiar landmarks beyond the doors. Setting down the heavy bag I've carried. Exhaling relief, inhaling peace. It's a joyful reunion with my pup and garden. An excited pilgrimage to the sea, windy music streaming my body. It's a hot shower, cool sheets, fresh clothes. Simplicity and slowing time. A morning cup of coffee inside birdsong. A bright, ripe berry on my tongue.
Karin Hedetniemi is a writer and street photographer from Victoria, Canada. Her stories and poems often weave the experiences of grief and joy with life's mysteries. Karin's creative work appears in many literary journals, including Grain, Welter, Lunch Ticket, and Reed Magazine. Find her at AGoldenHour.com or on socials @karinhedet.
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