Coffee, Pancakes, Homemade Toast

Quietly tip toeing, carpet beneath feet, cold feet
The aroma of bacon and pancakes
And coffee
And toast
Homemade toast, because she wouldn't serve it any other way
A pink satin nightgown hangs just above
two bony ankles
Two little, clumsy with morning stumbles, ankles
Light falls through the slant left between wood and wall
Ten fingers creep, curl around the edges of the wood door, between hall and kitchen
Between blinking away morning
And indulging in
Grandma's breakfast
Kitchen tile is cool on the toes
Chairs squeak against solid stone
Bacon crackles and spits
Grandma pulls her hand back in impulse
"Damnit"
She mutters
She orders Grandpa over with a "Joe" and a wave
To taste, although
She won't trust him
A satin nightgown slips into a chair
Feet hanging above rusty orange marbled tile
Flowered place mats circle the table
Little fingers fiddle with the ruffles
Grandmas eyes catch long brown hair and a glimpse of pink
Her eyebrows raise
She shuffles over and leans down
Baby powder, floral scented lotion
Gray
Soft Hair
A blossom printed housecoat, pink slippers
"Bunny or snowman"
A bunny, the pink nightgown and small anxious eyes reply
"A bunny," Grandma repeats with a smile. "It's always a bunny."
A few shuffles, a soft plop on a plate lined with green decor
"A bunny," Grandma whispers, setting a plate holding a pancake, of scratch, in the shape of bunny
"And toast!" A little grin requests.
"And toast."
Grandma shuffles away
To tend to the bacon
To taste and nod, or twist her face in disgust, "rancid"
To spread jelly on homemade
toast, with a chuckle
As I drown my bunny in syrup