Waking up on Saturdays where the best days to open my eyes. Did I finish my reading log? Of course I did. That was my one way ticket into the 5th graders All-Star Ice Cream party. My mind quickly diverts to the mouth watering smell of the breakfast that was being made just down the hallway, right past the living room, in the kitchen. I already knew what to expect. Smelling garlic bread being made in the oven, I’d start making my way down my metal bunk-bed. Walking to open my bedroom door and hearing the sizzling of eggs and sausages getting slightly crispy on the edges was one of my favorite sounds. I’d walk past my sister’s bedroom, into the long hallway, past the bathroom we shared, and start slowing down once I’d peek at the sunlight shining into the living room. Right past living room was the kitchen. However, the living room was the place to be, on these fine Saturday mornings.
The sound of the television roared of MTV: Saturday’s Top 20 Countdown. This was it. This is how I fell in love at 11 years old. Music was my first love. The feeling of waking up to my family breakfast, the warm feeling of the sun shining through our window panes, and the sounds of the music and cheer gave me such bless. Music had my family breakfasts filled with horrible off-key singing and atrocious dancing, yet this was where I always felt the most peaceful. It spoke to me, without having to say any words. The nostalgic feeling of these memories sends chills down my spine.