Eucharist in the Morning
I wrote this a couple of years ago when it was just Mateo and me in the morning.
It’s morning. I’m feeding my son breakfast. He likes cinnamon waffles. He can’t say waffles, but he can say nana (for banana), which I feed him first while the frozen waffle toasts.
The bell on the toaster oven rings and I pull out the warmed disc. I hold it up so my son can see it. I hold it high like a priest raising the Holy Host up to heaven. He sighs ah like his mother taught him to do when he’s happy. I give thanks for my son and his mother and break it in two. I save one half for later and tear the other half into bite-sized pieces.
He receives the first piece from my hand. Ah, he exhales, content. Ah, I intone.
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You’re currently reading “Eucharist in the Morning,” an entry on myopic pilgrim
- Published:
- 1.2.10 / 4pm
- Category:
- chronicle
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