The mixed egg sizzled then turned fluffy in the small cast-iron pan. Don’t add milk,” she’d instructed earlier, asserting as much control she could in her diminishing domain. Across the room, she waited in her chair. “And don’t overcook it,” she added. “It dries out too much if you do.”
Egg done and on a tray, the daughter added a peeled clementine. The sections were tiny in the plain white bowl. Bothered by the smallness, she added a mini-muffin. “Want more coffee, Mom?” she asked. “Just a half-cup, and come sit with me so we can have a nice chat.”
Thank you for reading.