Autumn morning light
poured through the kitchen window
illuminating the breakfast table.
Like a prayer, unspoken but heard.
The objects took on meaning,
Silently singing straight to my soul.
"Your bread and butter is here, right here.
No need to search further.
Nourishing, wholesome, peaceful, family, obtainable…"
Simple grace.
Though my thoughts were my own.
My husband without knowing the significance of my moment
broke the bread,
holy communion.
Light flooded the space in between.
Simple grace.
I love when something so simple,
without fanfare or knowledge,
softly comes with a deeper meaning, than what is at hand.
It is in these moments which heal, a tender knowing comes,
love is evident,
beautiful life.
Bread and butter.
I grabbed my camera,
captured the moment.
French Husband looked around to see what was I photographing.
A friend of ours was with us asked, "What does she see?"
French Husband, shrugged, buttered his bread, looked at me then smiled.
Did he know?
Morning prayer.
What is your bread and butter today?
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