It’s always surprising to me how many people don’t eat breakfast. As a kid, my Mom always made sure we never walked out the door without breakfast. Sometimes it was cereal, but mostly it was a hot breakfast. If we were really lucky, it was breakfast for dinner. Until now, I always considered breakfast a nicety. Today, I see it as an act of love, not only for the recipient, but maybe even for ourselves. You see, I make sure my kids have breakfast, too. Usually it’s just cereal because that’s what they like (and who can blame them, I love cereal, too!) Recently though, the kids have started to enjoy a hot breakfast. I get it — there’s nothing like starting your day with a full belly of warm food. In fact, I typically make myself a hot breakfast, sort of an act of self love. Still, making breakfast for someone else hits different. It’s extra time, extra energy, extra supplies and definitely extra love. Let me explain…the last thing I want to do is wake up and make breakfast. I’m tired, I’m no chef, and breakfast is messy. However, doing this for someone else is in its own way an act love. It says, I will take this time, extend this effort and do this for you because I love you. I’m not going to promise to make everyone breakfast all the time, it’s definitely not in my nature, but I’m grateful for a mother who did that not only for me, but for us.
Food for thought.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.
Empty Chairs, Everywhere 