waiting

Nearly tripping over my own feet, I rush to the kitchen to find those little muffins peeking out from their place on the middle rack—all huddled together, counting, “1..2..3”, as if they could all swing their weight to the side at once, and tumble out onto the kitchen floor and scamper away. But I am too quick. In a flash, I swipe an oven mitt from its hook and slip it on. As I open the oven door the rich, sweet aroma rolls over and around me filling the kitchen with a fragrance so full and so good that I can almost taste it.