In 2025, the mundane can still be sacred
It's 5am. My family is asleep. I slide out of bed, creep down the stairs, and enter the kitchen. Through the window, faint light dapples the horizon, teasing a rising sun.
I turn on the stove. While it heats, I prepare my station. A knife. A bowl. An old plastic mixing fork.
I inspect the fork. It is old and worn and made of cheap plastic. I don't remember where it came from, perhaps a dollar store. It seemed like something we've always had, following us from home to home to home, always finding its own place to settle amidst our ever-changing lives.
I like this fork.
The dogs grow restless. They wonder if I have forgotten them. I have not. I fill their bowls with food and water. They thank me with wagging tails. I return to—Oh right, the cat. I haven't forgotten you either. Heh. Sorry about that. Here you go.
I return to the kitchen. I can smell hot metal. It's time.
Oil. Hashbrowns. Sizzle. Nice.
I lean my back against the counter and close my eyes. The oil crackles on the stovetop. The rest of the world is still. The day ahead will hold many moments for many people, but this one belongs to me.
I open my eyes. The sun is showing a bit more of itself now. It peeks through the window and spies on me. It wants to know how I make my eggs.
One egg. Crack. Two egg. Crack. Three egg. Crack. Into the bowl they go. A splash of milk. The mixing fork does its job. Around and around and around. Good job, fork.
I turn back to face the sun. Soon, the Earth will finish a single rotation and the sun will rise high into the sky. It has completed this ritual 1.6 trillion times. More times than every breath I will ever take.
I hear a creak from above. My family is awake. They come down the stairs. My wife smiles. My son smiles. I smile. Away they go. They have rituals of their own to attend to. The sun, the fork, and I will attend to ours.
I dump the eggs onto the hashbrowns. The mixing fork does its job yet again. Fried salami joins the fray. I top it all with melted cheese. Nice. I grab plates, utensils, napkins, and orange juice. The ritual is complete.
In the next room, my wife has finished feeding our son. I set her breakfast down. She thanks me. She doesn't know I'm the one thanking her.
I sit down beside her and grab a remote. I press shuffle. The music plays. David Bowie. Nice.
♫ I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man who can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry? ♫
We eat our breakfast. The sun has risen. The world is awake.
Today will hold many moments. But this one is ours.
I wrote this today while cooking breakfast for my family. Purpose and meaning have been on my mind a lot lately. This felt very good to put to paper.
As usual, I never know what topic to post under or what tags to use. Sure, its a thing I created, so I considered ~creative, but its kind of about self-reflection so then I thought ~health.mental? But then I thought its just my point of view on life, so here it is. It is for this reason I'm forever grateful for the silent guard who adjust those things for me :)
Beautifully written, and very touching! Thanks for sharing.
As someone who regularly cooks for my family, I really really liked this line, since I feel very similar. Cooking for them is my way of thanking them for all they do for me, and showing that I love them. :)
Absolutely. My partner will always say something like "oh you don't have to cook tonight..." it's like, NO, you don't get it, I WANT to cook. I wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks for your kind words!
Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
I'm delighted you connected this to my little piece. Thank you.
I collect all kinds if mantras just like this. Have you heard this one by Thich Nhat Kanh?
I'm not a practicing Buddhist but I really love the philosophy behind it.
Absolutely beautiful piece, I find myself so easily with you there in the kitchen. I just wanted to highlight my favorite quote:
Such fun, emotive writing! Hoping you'll continue to share with us!
Wow, thanks! I'm glad it struck a note. I used to love writing, but for whatever reason I just completely stopped a long time ago. I tried to pick it up again a few times, but it had been so long that I was really struggling to find my voice. So your comment really means a lot, seriously, thank you.
This is lovely.
Meaning-making is one of the most powerful tools we have, and we can use it anywhere, on anything.
And we can share it with others, as you have here. Thanks for this.
Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I was going to just read and enjoy and move on, but seeing your comments about struggling with writing, I decided to leave this comment instead.
This was beautiful to read, every line is exceptional and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I think my day is considerably better for having read it, so thank you for putting it out here for me to see.
Wow, thank you so much! I am very proud of it, and I'm happy it's getting a warm reception from you and others on tildes. I haven't gotten much reaction from the folks in my circles, but I didn't really expect to, so that's kinda why I shared it here too. Thank you so much for your comment.