Some lucky mornings, we have waffles. And with them, berries of some sort, always. Outside summer, from far away, guilt-inducing places like Chile.
Valentine’s Day, Alexi made waffles, and we ate them with berries, syrup and whipped cream. And again the day after. And today. One last waffle with the last of the batter, this morning, until who knows when. The yeasted batter is a lot of work to put together. We sat on stools at our snack bar, Alexi and me, and ate, after getting the kids to school and a long run together. He’s on call this evening, so his work day started later than usual. A little out of the ordinary time to focus on each other.
As I made a vinaigrette this afternoon, I noticed, for the first time, my nearly empty bottle of red wine vinegar has this reminder by Robert Louis Stevenson on its label: ‘Judge each day not by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you sow.’ Quite so.
Over dinner, the discussion turned to what we long for, in the covetous sense. Naming and letting go. We remind ourselves, again and again, that some days there are waffles with berries, some days cereal. There is always something for breakfast. And we embrace it all.