Eggs at 4 am

Do you remember eggs at 4 am?

Outside the door, the world was still spinning.  There were kids and pets and work deadlines. Doctor’s appointments and vehicle maintenance. Groceries, credit cards and family drama. Global issues, political unrest and disease.

But none of that mattered. Because we had eggs at 4 am. And we slept in on Tuesday. And clothes thrown in the dryer with fabric softener were as good as clean. We had no television, and we ate fresh bread and drank with friends. Our checking account hovered around $1.17, and we paid for pizza with rolls of change. Stolen kisses and falling asleep to the radio on and sneaking into the movies with bags of grocery store candy. Rented movies and $1 hot dogs and boxed wine. Leaky water beds and shiny motorcycles and drunken concerts and friend-filled birthdays.

Life might not have been good, but we didn’t know that, because life as we knew it was wonderful.

Go ahead, ask me what I want for my birthday or Valentine’s Day or Christmas. It’s not jewelry or perfume or shoes.

I want eggs at 4 am.

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