My Mother’s Beach Breakfast
“One Sunday morning when I was 12 years old, my mother and father told my brothers and I that we were going to cook a homemade breakfast at the beach. We brought all the food and pans to cook over a firepit.
“Well, the wind came up while we were cooking, so we ended up eating a little sand in our scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. But it was one of the most memorable, fun times we ever had together. So who cares about a little sand?”
