IT’S THE MORNING Nick Vonk
It’s the morning. A morning. Any morning. My alarm— snoozed, 9 minutes. My alarm—I wake up. Right, it’s the morning. I roll out of bed and plant my feet on the rays of light spilling into my room, edgewise through the blinds. I could roll back into bed or I could get up and make some food. I nudge Allison. “Do you want rice and eggs?” She foggy-nods. I kiss the back of her head, get up, and open the door. The honey light heats the hallway; visions of eggs dance in my head. BANG BANG—a groan from Chase’s room. “G’morn-ing! You want rice and eggs?” “No.” “Alright—” “Wait. Yes.” “Alright.” Paper towel—sock, squeeze, spread across the counter, cutting board on top and press to lock in place. I take out the knife and check for burrs. I have it. A honing rod is like a comb while a whetstone is like a pair of scissors—you should comb your hair every morning, but eventually you’ll need a haircut. Anyways, this knife is sharp, but y’all are probably shaking your heads—IT’S IMPORTANT TO HAVE A SHARP KNIFE! The stovetop clicks to fiery life.
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Mixed & Matched
