Sit-down Breakfast

Where Are You, Breakfast?

I don’t know what happened to breakfast.  Somehow, in the hustle to slide in ahead of the morning bell, I lost it.  Now, when I think of breakfast, it’s with that soft glow of nostalgia–sepia toned and crackled around the edges like the bone china gravy bowl Meemaw jokingly called her petite spittoon. I see …

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