Breakfast at my parents’ household could mean anything, it was more structured when we were younger in which we’d have the traditional Asian breakfast of rice with eggs or fish, and fruits. However when my sisters and I began showing signs of health awareness, breakfast became a free-for-all-have-anything-you-want meal except on Sundays or my Mom’s days-off (she’s an RN, enough said on weird work schedules) wherein she’d cook a breakfast fit for folks with a farm to run. Burning the calories from our weekend breakfasts requires physical labor—something my sisters and I are unfamiliar with. As kids, we just burned off the calories from our various activities with ease, but as adults, I’m afraid not. So I seldom have hefty slices of cake or bowls of ice cream for breakfast, like I used to back in my high school and undergrad days.
Kat, my youngest sister, and I are enthusiastic big breakfasters while Claire, my younger sister (and middle daughter) can only eat so much and usually settles for a bowl of cereal with soy milk or a cup of yogurt and fruit. This morning, when I had my breakfast consisting of a bowl of yogurt with blueberries, sliced bananas, and crunchy cereal, I immediately thought of Claire.
Smell isn’t the only sensation that can trigger memories. For me, listening to music or eating a particular food can activate far-off thoughts and bring to mind lovely bygone times.
span style=”font-family:Calibri;”> I ought to tell my sister that a bowl of good bacteria reminds me of her. Methinks she’d like that.
Yo Claire, this yogurt’s for you!