What did you have this morning when you got up? Here’s a poem that talks about something I occasionally fix for me and Bill. It’s included in my new book, How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver, which I hope will be released next month.


We eat pancakes,
not square, not triangular,
not bathed in peanut butter or onions,
round buttermilk pancakes
covered with maple syrup,
prepared by me with love.

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Do you remember Mom or Grandma making pancakes, waffles, or biscuits from scratch, waking to the smell wafting up to your room from the kitchen, enticing you to climb out of your warm bed on a cold winter morning, put on a robe and slippers, and hurry downstairs to a hot breakfast? Please share your memories. You can leave a comment below or e-mail me.

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of two novels,, two poetry collections, and a memoir. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at

2 thoughts on “Breakfast”

  1. From Deon. Morning again. For me, the smell of french toast in the morning would snap me out of bed in a flurry. I loved the smell, the taste, and the warm feeling in my belly when all was said and eaten. I did love mom's oatmeal also. She would put my vitamin in the oatmeal, cuz I didn't like to take them, as they tasted awful. Then they invented kids chewable vitamins, and the rest is history. Have a great day.


  2. From Abbie Taylor:Hi Deon, I also liked French toast when I was a kid, but I think my mother used frozen or the kind you put in the toaster. It was pretty good.I still like French toast today, but I don't eat it very often. When Bill wanted it, I tried making it from scratch a couple of times, but it was such a mess that I told him no more. Schwann no longer carries French toast so I may have to call on Aunt Jemima.


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