His mouth when my mother says, "Try this." He leans against the sink, holding on to it a little, and obediently opens He is wearing loose pajamas, and the strand of hair he combs over his bald spot stands straight up. My father, a sweet and accommodating person, shuffles sleepily down the hall. Music have no effect she barges into the bedroom and shakes my father awake. But Dad and I are good sleepers, and when the sounds of martial She is the only one awake, but she is getting impatient for the day to begin and she cranks WQXR up a little louder on the radio, hoping that the noise will rouse everyone else.
My mother has been making breakfast-a major meal in our house, one where we sit down to fresh orange juice every morning, clink our glasses as if they held wine, and toast each other with "Cheerio. On the table is a basket of rye bread, an entire coffee cake, a few cheeses, a platter of cold cuts. Coffee is bubbling in an electric percolator.
It is a modest apartment in Greenwich Village. Imagine a New York City apartment at six in the morning.
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