It was a little past eleven in the morning by the time this meal was ready.  This time three years ago, I’d still have the pillow over my eyes to block out whatever sunlight made it past the shutters.  And then my mom would march into my room again, rollers in, pleading me not to be late for 11:30 mass again.

At 9:30 am this morning, I promptly sprang out of bed, brushed my teeth, and began my new Sunday morning ritual.