• emkate_utter

Day Twenty Two: Ritual

We didn’t get a lot of time together – just the two of us. That’ll happen in a family of five children. I never felt lost in that group, it was always inclusive, but it was never quiet in the house, the car, wherever we were. There was never a moment for just Dad and I. Not until Gerry, Hannah and then Sarah were out of the house.

But from the time I was small, I had night terrors, and they often woke me early in the morning. Dad worked the night shift at the hydro plant and usually got home between five and seven in the morning. Between my disrupted sleep and his work schedule, we often met in the kitchen when I had wandered down to get a glass of water and Dad had wandered in from work.

‘Pancakes?’ he’d ask, already opening the pantry to fetch the flour.

‘Sure,’ I’d respond, already reaching for the overripe bananas.

Eggs, beaten.

Flour, sifted.

Bananas, mashed.

Sugar, measured.

Syrup, ready.

And the funny thing is, we would eat in almost silence. That was when I felt closest to him – when I had him all to myself and we never had to speak a word.