There is a specific kind of magic in slow Sunday mornings❤

 No alarms. No emails. Just the smell of vanilla extract and melting butter filling the kitchen.

I decided to make my signature soufflé pancakes today. They are finicky little things—you have to whip the egg whites until they are just right, fold them in gently, and cook them low and slow. It takes patience.

But I’ve always believed that good things are worth waiting for.

As I plated them up—dusting the powdered sugar, scooping the cream, pouring the maple syrup—I realized I had made enough for two. Force of habit, I guess. Or maybe just wishful thinking.

I sat down at my small kitchen table, the sun streaming in through the window, and took the first bite. They were perfect. Like eating a cloud.

But food always tastes better when you have someone to share it with.

I imagined, just for a second, what it would be like to have you sitting across from me. Maybe you’d be reading the paper. Maybe you’d be stealing a bite from my plate even though you have your own. Maybe you’d just be smiling at me with a little bit of whipped cream on your lip.

I’m happy on my own. I truly am. I love that I can eat breakfast at noon if I want to. But sometimes, looking at an empty chair makes the coffee taste a little less sweet.

So, here’s to the slow mornings. And here’s to hoping that one day, I won’t be the only one enjoying them.

If you were here, how do you take your coffee? Black? Or with a little sweetness, like me?

Katey x❤