The sound of water running through the pipes in the wall woke me and I knew my mother was preparing breakfast. Stretching, I came more fully awake, blinking and running my tongue around my mouth before swallowing and dispelling the dryness that had accumulated there in the night. I threw the covers aside and leapt out of bed. Tearing into the kitchen, I saw my mother adding something to the big pot she always made breakfast in.
She gave me a radiant smile. “Good morning,” she said with the unfettered love that only a mother of a young child knows.