December 31, 2019. Ancaster, Ontario. Breakfast.

Promptly between 8:30 and 10:00 I come down the stairs for breakfast. I wear wool socks and the stairs have carpet so I am quiet. But Irene hears me coming and greets me as I come into the room. Irene sits on the couch working the crossword puzzle from the Globe and Mail, drinking her second cup of coffee. Irene wakes up early. The first thing she does in the morning is to push the button to start the coffee. The evening before she grinds the coffee and sets up the coffee for the next day. Next she brings in the papers, the Toronto Globe and Mail and the Hamilton Spectator. Irene removes the crossword puzzle from the Globe and starts working it while she drinks her first cup of coffee. And she reads my little blog. Next she eats her breakfast and continues to work the puzzle. When I appear, on the kitchen counter is my breakfast plate. It is a delightful part of the day. Every day is different. This morning I ate a crumpet with peanut butter, with a cut up pear. All I need to do is toast the crumpet and add the butter. Yesterday on my plate was a muffin, cheddar cheese and a tangerine. Irene covers my plate. My role is to pour my coffee and carry my plate to the living room. And I eat my breakfast. In addition, on my end table is a box of dark chocolate truffles, given to me for Christmas by Irene. I eat one truffle each morning along with my breakfast. Sometimes I drink a second cup of coffee. Life is good. Eventually, Dave comes down for breakfast. He reads both papers, cover to cover. And he gets his own breakfast while Irene completes the puzzle. Our breakfast routine is pleasant, all because Irene has looked after all our needs. There is something special about coming into the kitchen to get coffee and discover a plate is awaiting me. Being spoiled has its own reward. It makes me feel special.