Egg-actly as I remember

Scrambled eggs was the first thing I ever learned to cook on my own. Just getting to crack the egg by myself was a cool feat. Today the first bite of my breakfast transported me back to that kitchen in Overland Park, Kansas. I remember feeling so proud of making my own cooked breakfast rather than a bowl of cold cereal. And this morning that gave me pause. I love eggs for breakfast. More than that though, I notice things like this more often these days. Simple pleasures pop out when our days seem to be the same. I notice new flowers in the neighbors yard. Deep breathes while doing yoga. A piece of snail mail coming my way. A hug from my hubby (and pandemic partner). All little things, all very lovely. All keeping me sane.