A Hearty Breakfast

Two sisters are sitting next to me at the coffee shop.

At first I am annoyed that they had chosen the table right next to me when their family was sprawled out near other empty tables some ways away. My desire to write was strong and I wasn’t sure what I’d be able to produce with them chattering and murmuring just two feet away from me.

I relented, and allowed myself to find peace in the moment anyway. I’m so glad I did. The younger sister of maybe 7 was waiting for her breakfast bagels with the older girl who may have been 10. Both bold and brunette in appearance, round in all the right places children should be round.

The little sister began adamantly, hushedly telling her older sister that she wasn’t fat. “You’re not fat, you’re not. No, you’re not fat. Don’t listen to what anyone says about that. You’re not fat.” she desperately and wisely implored her sister to believe her. This display of concern and affection went on for just a moment longer, before they rolled into more suiting topics: their matching pink shirts, the pretty sun outside, should they share a cookie.

Their mother came by, attempting to hurry them along into the day. They responded by hovering protectively over their bagels and reasoning that they were in the middle of a conversation. Witnessing their bond, so deep and raw, made my entire morning.

I think if those two girls have each other, they’ll be alright. Even when they no longer have a need for matching pink shirts. Sun or no sun. Cookies or no cookies. Fat or not. 

 

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