The soundtrack of our mornings went like this:
Paul Harvey on the radio,
lunch money slapped onto the counter, 45 cents
{a quarter, two dimes},
plastic bowls still swimming with milk dropped into the kitchen sink,
the metallic clink of your wedding band as you gripped your cup of tea,
the diesel engine of a school bus rolling down the hill,
and our footsteps marching off -
one by one -
to fill in the blank spaces.
