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| My cousin Christie sent me this picture today circa ~ 1986. |
I smelled burning French toast from the other room. I ran to the stove, flipped his piece, and then scraped the black edge with a knife. He wouldn’t eat burnt food. I flipped it again and cut it into triangles and set them on a plate with a bowl of peaches. He got up from bed and ate breakfast on the stool. His eyes were on the peaches. “You're as pretty as a peach,” he repeated when I put on some lotion from a bottle that said the same. After a shower, he climbed in the car and I drove him to school. His compliments get me every time.
