Before entering into the morning I shrug off chemo memories, swallow the bitter taste of other ancient ashes in my mouth.
1 minute 30 seconds on defrost, the flip, another 1:00 on high, the microwave sanctifies my biscuit wrapped in a paper towel shroud.
My dog paws at my feet, begging for the meaty morsel that I will solemnly cut in two: one a treat, the other wafer a remembrance piece.
With the most difficult thing now done, I can see the morning for what it is: remnants of other days rising up on amber dragonfly wings in slow difficult joy.
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