How it begins.

You lay in bed, wide awake, but it feels too early to get up. The birds outside seem to have lots to discuss, but the sun is not quite ready to make its appearance. The person beside you is breathing the breath of deep sleep, and you can tell it will be awhile before he opens his eyes.

So you stay there a bit longer. Lying on your back you put one arm behind your head and stare at the ceiling. Then you turn on your side, taking your pillow with you, but it doesn't calm your restlessness. You push the covers off you, and splash some cold water on your face in the bathroom sink. You look at yourself in the mirror as you brush the knots out of your hair.

You walk back into the kitchen and see those bananas again, and you wonder if you let them go past their prime on purpose. This isn't the first time.

You look at the clock.
6:10 a.m.
You remind yourself that he can sleep through anything.

So you get out the eggs, the butter, the sugar and milk and start mashing those bananas in a bowl. And the rest of the ingredients follow, now cluttered on your kitchen counter. You pour the lumpy batter into the muffin pan, and slide them into the oven. As they bake, you make yourself a cup of coffee, the smell of the dark roast mixing with the warm scent of bananas and nutmeg.

You sit down in the living room, coffee in hand, and consider reading your book, but instead you just stare out the window, where nothing is happening.

The birds chirp, and quiet snores drift in from the bedroom.

The oven dings and another weekend begins.