I originally wrote this in my journal in January. Last week I read it in my writing class. They really liked it and encouraged me to share it more widely. So here it is. (Dedicated to KVS who gave me the egg).
I didn't even notice the yellow handle of the knife I was using until I broke the yolk of the fried egg so it spread evenly over the crusty sourdough bread slice. Sorry I have to take a bite now before it cools.
Before I put the piece of toast and egg into my mouth I move it through the liquid on the right side of the plate and notice the beautiful orangy yellow glare as the sun beams from my south facing dining room window intensifying the color. Another bite...
It's 10am and yesterday's snow is melting. Outside the window everything is glistening. There are water drops on every branch. Snow still coats some of them. Some of the drops catch the light throwing off a tiny prism of color, a beacon flashing red then yellow and for a while a steady blue.
Another bite... the egg is cooling a bit now, and I have 4 cut pieces remaining. I'm prioritising in which order to eat them weighing their relative amounts of yellow creaminess, white fluffiness and crunchy browned bread crust. Yum - the richness of the yolk in that bite coated my tongue with pleasure.
The weight of crysaline snow turning to heavier, melted slush is bringing down the precipitation in large chunks. The sun is moving west, and the glittering dew is dropping. This moment at my sunny table will soon be over. The second to last bite of egg is cold but still gloriously smooth and a bit chewy all at obce.
I'm scraping up every last bit of yolk from the plate on the side of the last piece of breakfast. Once I put it into my mouth then chew and swallow, it will be gone. The magical yellow of yolk, and sun, and warmth melting with the snow.
