Breaking Bread

It dawned on me very recently that some years ago, when my father passed from an untreatable and excruciatingly painful bone marrow cancer, he was then only a few months older than I am now.


It was and is a sobering realization of loss, of mortality and of appreciation for this one life. And most of all for family in all of its various forms.

After months of stay-at-home with nary a social contact experience I felt hungry for something more. We all know folks who’ve suffered emotionally from the lack of gatherings and coffee meet ups and social connections outside of their own Covid bubble. Its been hard for so many in that aspect of this unparalleled year. But I’ve honestly been content to stay safe at home. No kidding. Because this extraordinary experience will not go on endlessly and we WILL return to a new normal in time. That and the simple fact that I for one want to live longer than my own father had the chance to . . . and by many, many years please my dear Lord. That being said, with an invitation from family in the Central Coast region (who are thankfully on the same page in regards to all things pandemic) I busted out this weekend and headed north.

Early morning coffee before the sun comes up and the rooster crows; late nights working on puzzles with the Avengers playing in the background and at least two of us at any given time on our phones playing Wordscapes. And the food. Lots and lots of food. Glorious food.

Made together. Enjoyed together. Its a beautiful thing and in the not too distant future there will be a whole lot more “together” than there is Covid era isolation. Oh glorious day. It won’t be long. Soon and very soon . . . Come quickly.

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