Sunday Morning

On Sunday morning I can always count on my mom to wake up struggling to unlock the door, with the tiny key. Normally the rattling door knob would scare me but I know that it's her. After I let her in I crawl in bed making sure I leave enough space for her to join me, she then says, "You have any plans today"
"No"
"You wanna go to breakfast"
"Sure"

Now this conversation normally varies based on certain events but that is the main conversation we have. See, Sunday Morning breakfast at June's dinner is a tradition for us. We always go at least once a weekend. We share stories about our  week, what happened on Saturday if either of us had gone out, etc. Last time she put me on a guilt trip when we were talking about college next year, "Who will I have breakfast with when you leave." That had to be the most hurtful thing she could have said. I already have anxieties about leaving her, but that was just the icing on the cake. Anyway, I have to go, she waiting for me to go to breakfast, now.