Today my oldest daughter served me breakfast in bed. Late last night I could hear my daughters talking in their room. Every couple of minutes they would come into my room further delaying their bedtime. Early the next morning my sister called to ask if I was picking up my niece. I hadn’t been planning on that so I threw on clothes and headed out alone. When I got home I went back to bed, pulled the covers up over my head and thought about staying that way for the rest of the day. Noise from the kitchen made me nervous but my daughter is eight and she has to learn how to do things on her own. Breakfast arrived on a wooden cutting board. Fresh strawberries peeked out of the milk in my oatmeal. Jill had lovingly buttered toast, prepared a fruit cup and finished it off with a glass of cold clear water.

Several Kodak moments later I sat down to eat. My daughter stood by me until I asked if she was hungry. Together we made short work of the wealth of food on my tray. Back in the kitchen I threw the strawberry tops down the garbage disposal. It was hard not to think about what would have happened if my daughter had cut herself with the steak knife she had used to cut up berries. Dutifully I uploaded pictures of my breakfast tray to Facebook. Dishes went into the dishwasher and when that was done I started cleaning up the living room. Breakfast in bed was sweet but what really touched me was the notebook I found that listed all of my favorite foods. Food restores people. It nourishes them. Food says things that words never could and seeing that list made me realize that despite our difficulties my daughter loves me just as much as I love her.

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