I woke up abnormally early today—just like my Grandma used to.
I made coffee first thing. Also a key step in Grandma’s morning routine as I recall.
I read a little news, looked out the window, thought about my loved ones in the world and considered my breakfast options. Again, following in Grandma’s long-lost footsteps.
Still only half awake, I dug up a frying pan and a spatula. I went to the fridge to grab an egg. I decided I’d make two instead. Something like an edible tribute to one of the greatest women I’ve ever been lucky enough to know, I arranged the eggs on a plate and went heavy on the salt and pepper exactly like Grandma would’ve done.
Then I slathered the whole thing in Frank’s Red Hot. Smiling with a fork in hand, it occurred to me that Grandma never would’ve done this.