Posted in Writing

A Toast-with-Jelly Kiss


Isra’s yawn was so wide that it made her jaw crack and ears pop.

As her mouth closed once more, she shook her head to try and get her brain in gear and, when it didn’t work, she took a deep breath and squinted blearily at the canister in her hand.

The container was blue and had a picture on it, but damned if she could figure out what the words said. Of course, if she had remembered to grab her glasses from the bedside table before leaving the room she wouldn’t be having this problem to begin with.

Well, as they say hindsight is twenty-twenty and her sight was correctable to that degree, just so long as her glasses were on.

Isra sighed again and felt along the counter until her hand brushed the mug rack. She took a mug, set it on the counter and proceeded to scoop some of the finely grained stuff out of the canister and into the waiting mug.

It took until the third scoop for her to realize that the mug was upside down. She stopped and heaved a heavy sigh.

This was not a good start to the morning.

Isra bent close to the counter and brought the canister up towards the mug so that she could oh so carefully pour the contents back into the canister without spilling any. After which, she just as carefully turned the mug right side up and slowly counted out the scoopfuls of what turned out to be hot chocolate mix.

That Herculean task done, Isra managed to find bread and the toaster and successfully put two slices in without anything untoward happening. She stood for a minute trying to remember what came next before shaking her finger at the ceiling and making her way to the refrigerator.

She pulled the door open and, literally, put her head inside to try and find the strawberry jam. Not having any luck with the jam, she shrugged and grabbed the jar of grape jelly.

Getting a butter knife was easier than getting the butter because the silverware hadn’t moved in two years. The butter however had not been put back in its usual place, so Isra put her face right up to the counter and squinted at what was sitting on top.

It took her awhile before realizing that the butter dish couldn’t be on the counter because she had never put it back after supper the night before.

Sure enough when she put her head close enough to the table she saw the familiar ceramic yellow duck that held the butter.

Isra heard the toaster sproing done just then and, since she couldn’t be bothered to try and find a plate, she pulled a piece of paper towel off the roll and carried her toast to the table that way.

Sitting down, she pulled the butter dish and jelly jar close enough that her short sighted eyes didn’t have to strain so much to see and proceeded to butter and jelly her toast.

Isra started to feel like the day was finally looking up, until she heard the butter knife clatter to the kitchen floor.

She shouldn’t have left it so close to the table edge.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before hunching over her toast and resolutely ignoring everything else around her.

Isra only knew she wasn’t alone anymore when a hand tipped her head up and her husband’s lips touched hers in a gentle kiss. He licked the crumbs from her lips while setting a steaming cup of yummy smelling ambrosia in front of her on the table.

Before Isra could reach for the cup, and the nirvana within, her face was tilted up once more and her glasses were settled in place just so. She blinked up at him.

“Better?” He asked. She nodded and went back to her breakfast, hearing Matthew chuckle as he moved about the kitchen fixing himself food.


Matthew woke when his wife left their bed. It was a habit he never wanted to break and he still pretended to be asleep as she moved around the stacks of library books on the floor and out the bedroom door. No doubt aiming for the kitchen to get breakfast started.

He rolled twice so that he ended up on her side of the bed and looked over the edge to the floor.

Sure enough, as she had done almost every morning for as long as he had known her, his wife had forgotten to put her glasses on before leaving the bedroom.

Smiling to himself, he shifted to his back for a full body stretch before swinging his legs off the bed and heading to the bathroom. Five minutes later he strolled back out again, picked up Isra’s glasses, and made his way towards the kitchen.

Matthew walked into the kitchen just in time to hear a knife hit the floor. Unconcerned, he poured hot water into the forgotten mug of hot chocolate mix. He stirred it, added whipped cream to the top and couldn’t stop from shaking his head at his wife.

Eleven years later and Isra still wasn’t even close to being a morning person.

God, he loved her.

He leaned against the counter and just watched her for the sheer joy of it for several moments, well aware that she probably hadn’t notice him enter the room.

After drinking the sight of her in and wondering if he would he ever get enough of her, he finally decided to take pity on his wife and moved to her side.

Matthew snuck his hand under Isra’s chin and lifted her face to his for a kiss. He could feel the crumbs scattered on her lips and licked them off. She tasted like grape jelly, which meant that she had forgotten that she had put the strawberry jam in the refrigerator door the night before. It was supposed to be a precaution, just in case she forgot to put her glasses on before eating breakfast.

He set the mug down on the table and pulled said glasses from where he had hooked them onto the neck of his shirt. Unfolding them he tilted her head up to him once more, managing to stop the chuckle that tried to escape when she growled at him for stopping her from reaching the hot chocolate, and slid them onto her face gently.

“Better?” he asked, knowing full well that she wouldn’t respond verbally. It was far too early for that yet and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he was proven right. She barely managed a nod in his direction.

Grabbing the loaf of bread Matthew made himself some toast and sat at the table to eat. He spread butter on both pieces, but stayed away from the jelly, not being a particular fan of grapes unless they happened to be on his wife.

They ate in silence, sharing the mug of hot chocolate between them while the sun slowly rose above the horizon to shine through the balcony window.

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