Sunday morning breakfast: laziness on a platter!

There is a familiar inertia that creeps into me every Sunday morning. It croons me to sleep late, turns me deaf to alarms and wake-up calls. I even let the newspaper become cold and morbid at my doorstep. Finally when the sun-kisses my eyelids warm enough, I awaken to the dizzying horror of how the world around me continues to spin without taking a breather.

As a doctor, my week comprises of six Mondays and then a well awaited Sunday. Although, in a bid to make my life a well oiled machine; I would make pre-made schedules with an hour by hour break-up as to what tasks I have to complete on the forth coming Sunday. I would even write multiple post- it notes and stick it all over the place. However, come Sunday morning and there is a slowness of time, a stillness of air, a shroud of peace that encompasses me.

I refrain to let anyone or anything spoil the sanctity of my Sunday. I vow to keep the Sunday holy. I promise to uphold the purpose of the day. To rest!

Off all my rituals, my Sunday morning breakfast is the one I hold most steadfast to. On most other days, I hardly get a bite of cold toast and some coffee to kick starts my day. In my bid to monopolize time, I skip meals; I run my engines on caffeine and more caffeine.

On Sunday, the tides turn, my breakfast gets priority. I would love breakfast in bed. However, it makes no sense in getting out of bed to fix something and then getting back under the covers, just to eat breakfast in bed.

When I was a kid, I used to spend my weekends with my grandfather. His farm house used to be just an hours’ drive from the city. The drive was uphill and slow, the din of the crowd would be so distant. The quiet was pleasant; the fresh smell in the air is nostalgic .The farmhouse was the ultimate relaxing destination. Although I dint have much to relax from then!

I would wake up to the smell of freshly barbequed sausages and ham. I would sleepwalk, dragging my blanket along. As I step out of the house into the porch, the chilly wind would sting my face, yet the barbeque would be so inviting.

The menu-Freshly squeezed orange juice or grape honeydew, soft sweet bread with homemade butter and orange marmalade, poached eggs, and barbequed meat! There was no one forcing me to drink milk, no mom nagging me about my home work, no need to brush my teeth before breakfast.

It was just the aroma of the meat cooking slowly in the coal skewer, the butter just melting on the steamed buns! Ah! Gone are those yesterdays.

Later, when I left to college, Sunday mornings meant the absence of the need to wake up early for college! The hostel mess extended till ten am .I would pick up my coffee, peanut butter sandwiches and bulls-eyed egg, go to the terrace and relax rejuvenate.

Once I started working, I would drive to have a buffet breakfast in one of those fancy places, the continental spread would be awesome but nothing like my grandfathers platter!

Now that I am back at home, my parents have adopted a healthier breakfast, appam and chicken stew with coffee. This is the only breakfast I get to eat with them, so we just talk about all those old stories, remember, cherish and rewind!

This Sunday, I was home alone after a long time. I woke up around ten, the air was chilly, and the rain was swishing in. I had to cook myself breakfast, black tea with honey ,toasted bread with scrapping’s of melted butter, sausages grilled, egg done two ways, fresh juice and some coffee.

I set my breakfast table on the porch, read my newspaper slowly, by twelve I finished my brunch. As I folded my newspaper, I looked into the rain and thought -granddad died, the farmhouse is shut, college is over and I am back in Kerala so many things have changed ! But,this is life my friend. constantly evolving!

So, it doesn’t matter how erratic or hectic your life gets during the week. If you just get a good Sunday breakfast ~ all izz wel!.

Ps: When life throws lemons at you, make lemonade!