of other breakfasts

A week ago I had breakfast in Portugal before kissing little brother and Mum a very early goodbye and being driven to the airport by Dad. As predicted, I miss all of them. I miss them annoying me and/or teasing me. I miss their quiet daily activities and their loud outbursts of silliness just the same. I miss their puzzled looks as I set up the breakfast table to photograph it and wonder why I'm letting my toast go cold. I miss our 324 attempts at having a family photo and managing to have one of us looking weird in every single one. I miss Dad talking non-stop whenever I try to take his photograph. I miss Mum moaning she never looks good in photographs but letting me try anyway (she is only the most beautiful woman I know!). I miss little brother photographing me so I'd have something too and how photogenic he is. I miss how we all work together in spite of being so utterly dysfunctional too. And I wouldn't have believed any of this if you had told it to me when I was younger. Gotta love being older :)