breakfast at grandpa’s

one of my fondest memories is of breakfast at grandpa’s.

when my brother Wilson and i were little, my mother would drop us off at my grandparent’s apartment in Queens before heading to work in the mornings. we’d crawl onto their mustard couch and continue our slumber while my grandma would wrap blankets around us to keep us warm. as we slept, my grandpa would prepare us breakfast in the kitchen. we’d wake up to the wonderful smell of hickory smoked ham, lightly toasted rye and the crackle of fried eggs. our sandwiches would always be paired with our favorite: milo chocolate milk from malaysia. then our cousin Victor would run down stairs from the apartment above, and we’d all sit around the small, white table and enjoy grandpa’s breakfast together.

it was a simple meal, yet every single element was made with the utmost love. always warm, familiar and perfect.