The early morning sun slanted across my face through the thin slats of the rustic wooden shutters. I adjusted the cozy covers and my pillow to block them for just a few more minutes of sleep. The bed is warm and soft, softer than mine at home.
I can hear my family downstairs talking quietly readying themselves for their morning hunt. The screen door opens and shuts again, and I hear murmur of my brother’s voice thank the deliverer of the yummy goods. More soft murmuring and I doze off again.
Finally I hear Donnie tip-toe up the stairs to ask if I’m ok. “Yes,” I stretch and reply “just waiting for the party to leave.” He tells me they were waiting on me, but assured me they would be off now.
The final slap of the screen door, and I peer out the window to make sure they are gone. The coast is clear, so I make my way to the one and only bathroom, and hopefully what’s left of the breakfast goodies. I hear my sister-in-law’s voice and give her a quick wave. She smiles and waves back. I see she had the same idea I did.
After a quick shower I head for the tray near the kitchen sink. I lift the cover and grin. One left. One. One of the homemade cinnamon rolls from the owners of the Doyle Creek Bed and Breakfast. Since the passing of my grandparents a few years ago we now spend our Labor Day “nights” at the B& B. It’s not the same as grandma and grandpas but it is nice.
My family comes for the days filled with card games, visiting the family farm, fishing, and the hunting. But I come for the relaxation, restful atmosphere, beautiful scenery, memories of days gone by, and of course… the cinnamon rolls.