Minute 58
Saturday morning, I woke up to the smell of eggs and something else. Probably something with caramelized onion. Dad was a good cook and the fact that we both didn’t eat any meat made things easier with regards to grocery shopping and food preparation.
I got to the table and just sat, admiring the multi-coloured omelette already in my plate, vapour still raising up from it. There was toast, a big orange juice glass, sliced avocado, salsa, bread, and warm flour tortillas. Coffee was still dripping for dad. Seemed like he was expecting someone important, but there was no third plate served, or ready.
He had this ability to know what time I was going to wake, sometimes it felt as if he was watching me, but somehow, I believed it had to do with genes plus experience.
“Good morning
