Bliss

It is Saturday in the late morning. The work of the week at home and in the office is done. I am dressed somewhere between pajamas and day clothes...closer to pajamas. There is no agenda set for the day. In the corner of the kitchen, the coffee pot quietly percolates a morning song I hear every day, though usually much earlier than this. Today I can really appreciate its song. Ah, the smell of fresh brewed coffee - strong and bitter and sweet all at once. I have no place to be but home. There is bacon cooking slowly in a skillet on the stove top. Blue flames gently lick the bottom of the well used pan. "Sizzle, sizzle, pop," says the pan. The bacon's salty aroma perfectly joins the coffee smell. Their duet permeates the whole house. I drink the fresh hot coffee, a perfect balance of bitter and sweet, and it shocks me awake. My eyes open full now. I see a day full of promise. From a distant room, I hear the old well-used kitchen cabinets gently opening and closing. The house is otherwise resting and is still. It prepares for the raucous that will come later in the day. My love calls to me with an endearment from the kitchen, spatula in hand. He asks if I'd like toast. Bliss.