As I listen to the birds singing this morning, it instantly brings me back to the days when I was younger. My siblings and I would spend an occasional weekend with my great-grandma and grandpa. Every Saturday morning I would wake up super early, sneaking downstairs to find Grandma Blondie in her robe and slippers, drinking a cup of coffee. She would then take me to the kitchen to give me a glass of milk and the best donut in the world, baked fresh that morning from her local bakery. I would take it outside to the patio, where my Grandpa Chucky would be reading his newspaper and eating oranges. We would just sit there enjoying our breakfast while listening to the birds sing.
To this day, I have no idea what types of birds we were listening to, but every single morning that I go outside into the sun and hear birds singing, it brings me back to the mornings in Falls City, Nebraska, on the patio with my Grandpa Chucky.
Thank you God for these simple, yet treasured memories. :)
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