Waking up to the sunlight cutting through the trees, illuminating the old wallpaper 
Walking down the creaky brown stairs, memories shared by generations lay under my feet
I pass the living room with the knit blankets and make my way into the kitchen 
Where I find two wagging tails and the kettle boiling 
I pull an old worn out mug from the cabinet and make my morning tea 

One part sugar, two parts milk

As I step outside the wind blows my hair in my face 
While I make my way to the picnic table to join my family for breakfast 

One part chosen, two parts blood