How the littlest joys of grandchildren bring the greatest memories…

There is not a day that’s gone by, since August 1975, that I haven’t thought of my Dad.  My Dad was the biggest hugger with the grandest smile… the guy who loved cooking breakfast on a Saturday morning.

My Dad loved all kinds of breakfast creations, but one of his favorites was the simple, but oh-so-perfect, Scrambled Egg Sandwich; a couple of slices of toasted bread, some fluffy scrambled eggs in-between, and voila!

I loved my Dad’s Scrambled Egg Sandwiches, and to this day I squish piles of scrambled eggs in-between toasted bread slices.

But I didn’t know, until this past Saturday, that my grandson Alex does the same thing.  Barry and I were with Audrey’s family at a little restaurant in Cape Cod after William’s swim meet… one of those breakfast-all-day places.  I ordered scrambled eggs and toast and went about building my creation.

Alex, who was sitting directly across the table from me, was doing the same thing at the same time.  I watched Alex as he began to squish a pile of scrambled eggs in-between two pieces of toast.

I asked, “Alex, what are you doing with your scrambled eggs?”

He answered, while concentrating on his masterpiece, “Making a Scrambled Egg Sandwich.”

“I didn’t know you like Scrambled Egg Sandwiches,” I said.

Alex smiled.  “They’re the BEST!” he said, as he chomped a huge bite…

I told Alex the story of my Dad and his famous Scrambled Egg Sandwiches, and he listened with such love… like my Dad himself was telling this story.

It’s almost impossible to describe the joys that grandkids bring, right through the grand presence of angels among us.

Alex and I both devoured our Scrambled Egg Sandwiches at that little breakfast restaurant at the Cape… with great big smiles in heavenly delight.

Thanks for this visit, Dad!