saturday morning in my house growing up usually consisted of pancakes. my mom usually worked so it was my dad's duty to make breakfast and pancakes was a specialty.
i remember helping him in the kitchen, always eager to pour the batter and flip the pancakes. but mostly i loved eating the teeny little pancakes that occurred when i [accidentally] dripped bits of batter on the grill.
i thought about this memory as i was preparing my supper tonight [white cheddar cheese pancakes with real maple syrup] and thought of my family and the geographical distance between us. *tear.*
nut it's okay. i will find comfort in my pancakes.
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