Morning Tradition

By Samantha Peirce

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered, ruffling his young daughter’s tousled hair. The yawning child, swaddled in footed pajamas, tightly clutched her father’s hand as they padded softly toward the kitchen, past the room where her mother still lay sleeping. Outside, the wind gusted, snow spiraling against the azure early morning sky. Inside, she cautiously climbed from cabinet door to countertop, stretching for the colorful, sugary cereal before turning to share it with her father, her champion. Smiling, he took the offering from her tiny, outstretched hands, welcoming her as she leaped and enfolded herself into the warm stillness of his arms.