My son was awakened by the scent of breakfast - bacon to be exact. He staggered to the kitchen wearing those baggy shorts. I was humming that old Carpenter's song, "Top of the World", as I stood over the cook-top in my flowered, blue, cotton housecoat with my unbrushed, raven locks draped over my shoulders. We were the only ones in the house because my daughter and husband had left earlier
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