Quietly I stirred the sugar, bananas, and butter until they became a fluffy cream. I added the eggs, milk, and vanilla and began stirring again. The repetitive motion quieted my soul. I stood at the counter, looking out the small window, the bowl nestled safely in the crook of my arm and the whisk held firmly in my hand. Leaves sang in the wind while the branches swayed to the gentle song. Birds swooped through the sky, their taunting chirps mocking the stationary ground. Children laughed and screamed, delirious in the warmth of an early Spring day.
I started to fold in the baking powder, salt, and flour. The batter thickened, the color turning even with each twist of the whisk. The motion still soothing. Soon, I knew the house would smell of bread and with it, my husband's arrival home. My lips curved upward, rounding my cheeks and narrowing my eyes in joy. I looked out the window again, pleased with my life.
*** Daily Writing Practice ***
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