Chocolate for Breakfast
We woke to snow—a full inch, the first real snow of winter.
The boys crowded around the living room window, eager to see. I fed them breakfast, then my husband packed them into the car for the drive to daycare.
Alone in the quiet house, I considered going back to bed. I had no meetings on my schedule, and had completed all my work for the week. No one would miss me if I arrived to the office a few hours late.
It took a long time to fall asleep. I turned on a nature sounds app and pictured the old creek from my childhood; the one surrounded by farmland. I spent countless afternoons there as a girl, wading through its the shallow water. Minnows glinted underneath its surface like flakes of sunshine.
I woke an hour later, feeling restored.
On the way to the office I stopped by my favorite coffee shop for a chocolate muffin and a cup of Jamaican Me Crazy.
Beside me, a group of elderly women sipped tea and discussed healthcare premiums with an air of secrecy and scandal, like teenage girls talking about sex.
It was the most delicious morning.