Berry red toast sat upon the plate as if it had taken to the stage in a fiery fiesta gown.
From golden toasted crumb to the softness within, the jammy toast was every good morning condensed into each sweet bite.
There was comfort in the toasted bread, the surface a homey caramel-brown. In the gentle warmth it retained, it melted the butter and took the honey right in.
From sun-fed grains held upon soil-spun gold in fields that quietly give, the bread became the kind of rich-brown hue that smells of heaven within a home. It may not be the most gourmet of meals, nor take an age to make, but that toast was a theme throughout my life-span, a keeper of many memories.
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