What did you have this morning when you got up? Here’s a poem that talks about something I occasionally fix for me and Bill. It’s included in my new book, How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver, which I hope will be released next month.
We eat pancakes,
not square, not triangular,
not bathed in peanut butter or onions,
round buttermilk pancakes
covered with maple syrup,
prepared by me with love.
They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Do you remember Mom or Grandma making pancakes, waffles, or biscuits from scratch, waking to the smell wafting up to your room from the kitchen, enticing you to climb out of your warm bed on a cold winter morning, put on a robe and slippers, and hurry downstairs to a hot breakfast? Please share your memories. You can leave a comment below or e-mail me.