It's not just another Friday

It's just another Friday.

She comes into their bedroom at six-thirty.

Dad, it's Friday.

Yep. He yawns.

Are we doing our routine?

Uh, huh.

He gets up and showers quickly.

She gets dressed and brushes her hair and teeth.

Remember, Dad? This is the day of the week when I wear my comfy clothes. Are you done with your coffee?

Yep. Let's go.

On the three-minute trip to Safeway, they talk about karma and friends.

They walk through the sliding doors, and she takes in the aroma of flowers and produce.

Dad, I love that smell.

She leads him to the bakery, where she chooses a blueberry muffin, and then gets an orange juice (with added calcium).

Dad, this is pretty healthy, right?

I guess so.

They shuffle through the checkout area; no bag necessary.

Both Dad and daughter sit on the same side of a booth in the deli area and eat and watch and talk.

Dad, can you open my orange juice? Thanks. This muffin is really fresh, she says, unaware of a fluffy, blue crumb dangling from her mouth's corner.

Dad, thanks for bringing me here, she says, as she wraps her right arm around his midsection on the way out of Safeway.

It's not just another Friday.