Two Sides

The day is coming… when chicken breasts of the skinless variety will be readily available once more. The notion of no longer peeling the limp epidermis off my protein pleases me greatly.

The arrival of the aforementioned day also means I will no longer hear the peals of a deep-toned bell reverberating through the air at precisely 7am every morning. Housed in a shrine around the corner, my husband uses it to judge if he’s running behind schedule in the mornings. I’ve visited it a few times, and it’s as serious-faced as its somber, dutiful morning announcement would have you believe. Today, with a small pang, I realized that I will miss it, especially now that I’ve finally begun to wake up naturally about ten minutes before the rope is pulled with measured strokes.