Day 22: Storytelling at the Table

Rituals occur long before we know they are just that. The beauty in the organic of ebb & flow. I turn the heat to high on the back left burner, press the button on the espresso machine and pull out the shot cup & coffee cup. The kettle blares by the time my shot is tapered & ready to pull it through for crema delight. Hot water pours over and a splash of HWC.

Eggs finished, sprinkling of salt & pepper. I sit down wanting to have a moment of silence. I know better with two companions, age three & five.

"Mama! Tell us a story!," exclaims the five year old.
Before I can respond the three year old beats me to the punch, "The Jesus Storybook Bible Mama!"

I love a good story, but sometimes, in the early morning hours the romantic appeal of cozy storytelling sounds as appealing as a crying infant at 2am. I do it out of pure obedience, not out of delight.

Then it happens, like with any good story, enraptured. I lose myself in the telling, forgetting the reading & the mental landscape of the story land unfolds. Inflections, hand gestures & eyebrows raise--my girls know how to lure me in without my knowing.

Tay recently mentioned, "Mama, we don't read like we use to!"
"What?! Well, we still read," I respond.
"No, in the morning! At the table!," she replies.

I realize what she's referring to.

"Oh! You mean since Caprice was born?" knowing full well what she meant.

Storytelling is part of our family breakfast, our family life. With Caprice's arrival though, we are now figuring out a new rhythm in how it works out. I know it's not gone forever, but in this intermission period, I get melancholy about it.

I turn to Tay, "I know sweetie...I miss it too."