The calm in the morning's breakfast bowl, when the lull of rest hangs thick, and voices have yet to lose the sound of sleep. Sit, scoop, and eat. Nourishment for the body and slow time (if only for a bit, some days) for the soul.
At night, (far later than you had hoped, but such is the pace of a very full life), showered bodies pile onto the bed, boys calling spots by Mama. Books read from long ago, just now found again. Like familiar old friends come back home, the stories lift off the pages with a sweet hello, and we remember and love them the same all over again.
These bookends of morning and night, holding the day between, how could we do without them?
