So when she suggested pancakes for breakfast today, there was no way I was going to refuse. I wish we had the luxury of time every day to linger in the kitchen as we did today. But since we don't - life gets in the way most weekdays - we'll just have to hold onto memories of mornings like this until we can gather around the big table again.
Because there's always another batch of goodness and warmth waiting just around the corner at our house. And good friends are always welcome.
Your turn: Why does a homemade breakfast like pancakes - or waffles, or whatever warms your heart and soul - resonate so strongly? What does breakfast mean to you?