A Bowl of Oatmeal

"Who taught you how to make oatmeal?" Katherynn asks. "Are we going to have walnuts and raisins in it? I like brown sugar in mine. I don't think I want apples in it today. Is that cinnamon? Because I like cinnamon. Do you like stirring oatmeal? It looks fun."

For Katherynn life is standing still for this moment, this learning time.  I stir oatmeal as she snuggles close, watching, memorizing my motions as if I were creating a symphony rather than making breakfast.

It is only this moment that exists for her, the moment to be savored, remembered. This five year old is a sponge, soaking in love and life one moment at a time.

When did oatmeal become a forgotten wonder? When did life and love become forgotten wonders?

I smile and hug Katherynn close. "I do like stirring oatmeal. Making breakfast for a little girl is one of the most fun things I get to do."

She grins and I let her spoon hot oatmeal into green bowls. "It's pretty, isn't it? And we can decorate it now!"

We can see the beauty in a simple bowl of oatmeal. A simple moment shared. A moment of life noticed, treasured, recorded in the memory of a little girl.