Breakfast.

The human noise we were making.

The clinks and clanks of the breakfast table, as we silently sipped our sustenance of

 coffee and eggs.

It is my favorite sound in the morning time. Breakfast.

You wouldn’t think a time of day would have a sound to it, but it does. Like at two in the morning, when the world is silent and still, but you walk the streets for fear of running into another soul who is aimless and wondering. But it excites you just the same.

Or in the middle of the afternoon, when people are running errands, but not everyone and you stop in the middle of a parking lot and just watch. The kids haven’t left school yet, and the moms and dads are rushing to get everything done, but with purpose and direction; no wanderings or listless afternoons. And I begin to feel lost and hopeless, wondering why it is I cannot help myself but to wander.

But breakfast. And so rarely can we experience this together.

Yes, we make ourselves an egg or two, with a side of toast, and if we are daring some roasted vegetables on top. And we may sit on our couch, or at the table, and in the springtime outside on the porch, eating and chewing our way in silence and hopefully thought. We may take the morning paper onto the porch with us, and skim the front page, maybe the sports page too, and eventually I will land on the crossword puzzle. Filling the boxes with my time, and pretend knowledge of random facts, and crossword clues used time and time again, you know, for the vowels. But sometimes, we don’t. We take that time for granted. I like my moments. And I have wondered how to fill those moments sometimes, and I finally found a way to cherish those moments of solitude and fill them with grace. But that’s a story for another time.

Breakfast is my favorite. Hopefully I have made something healthy instead of just eating raisins, and toast, and then grazing all day long, but when I get to sit down with people, and eat, and talk, and laugh, that’s when magic happens.

Again, I love time by myself. Or I do now.

But...

Last weekend, I got to have breakfast with people. I know that might sound really odd, or lame to some, but for me, it was a nice, the perfect addition to a day. And luckily, it became multiple days.

This time, and these sounds, I didn’t realize that I loved them so until this last weekend.

Waking up Saturday morning and enjoying the daybreak with people, discussing books, and experience and life, as we ran along roads none of us had ever been on before. We showered and dressed, and in all of our awkwardness, joined hands and blessed the food and the day set before us. With tired eyes we put our heads down, and sipped the cups before us. The scraping and clinking of forks on plates, piling eggs, bacon and fruit in equal portions along the edges so as to not touch the other food on the plate. My eyes closed and my heart was warmed with this noise; the low mumble of conversation, at first. And building as we nourished our bodies further. And then, that laugh. Someone breaks that silence with a laugh, leaning back in their chair, tipping it slightly, hearing glasses carried to the table, and smiles squeal across faces in the room. Just pure joy on this morning. I can’t help but smile myself. No more is there discomfort or misunderstanding, awkwardness or quiet. The dam has broken and we enjoy. The sounds of the morning quicken as we laugh together, regaling in stories of past and sharing in adventures and hopes restored. Our plates are cleaned and our coffees gone, running now on energy from ourselves.

We have given and been given.

And I am thankful for this human noise we are always making. 

(We didn't have phones last weekend, so I know these are repeat pics. But without phones or devices, we were able to experience so much more. Live so much more.)