Most mornings, I have a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast. An occasional variation would be oatmeal, that I will eat either cold or hot- depending on weather, time allowance, availability, etc. But more often than not, it's going to be a little bowl of whole grain cheerios and almond milk (which I have started on as it has 'way more calcium than that which comes from squeezing the lower parts of a bovine, though I am not all knowledgeable as to how one would go about milking an almond tree?)
And generally try to keep bananas in the house to slice a half of a banana over the crunch.
Every time I slice a banana, I think about my dad. I have possibly told this story before, but with hundreds of blogs written, it's hard to know what direction my train of thought took over the recent years I have been posting. This must have happened at least twenty years ago - and still brings a clear picture in my mind.
I was in Destin, with both daughters, and parents. I think they were there when we arrived, having come from south GA several days earlier, with a bit of overlap. Allowing time to spend with the best grandmother on the planet I'm sure. You know how kids can go to bed at a decent hour, and still sleep till mid-morning? That must have been going on, because there were just three adults eating a cold cereal breakfast. There was only one banana available to cover all three bowls. My dad sliced that single, relatively small piece of fruit so thin, it was a gracious plenty for all three of us to enjoy our breakfast. Vaguely reminiscent of 'the loaves and fishes' story, but no leftovers.
So every time I stand in my kitchen and slice a banana over my little bowl of whole wheat cheerios, I am picturing in my mind - my dad, expertly slicing to provide enough for three people to enjoy. Which, as you can imagine, makes my bowl of cheerios, all these years later, much much better tasting.
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