The morning sun filters through the blinds of Earth’s small, neat apartment as he rushes around, trying to get everything in order for the day. His son, Edin, sits at the kitchen table, swinging his legs back and forth in the high chair, as his wide eyes follow his father’s hurried movements.
Earth fumbles through the kitchen, trying to multitask in the most chaotic way possible. His alarm had gone off later than he’d intended, and now every minute counts. The pan on the stove hisses as he cracks another egg into it, barely noticing how the yolk spreads unevenly and the edges crisp up far too fast.
“Daddy, is it ready yet?” Edin asks from the kitchen table, playing with his utensils.
“Almost, bud. Just a few more minutes,” Earth responds, his voice tinge with stress as he juggles pouring coffee into his mug with one hand and flipping the eggs with the other. The result is far from perfect—one egg is burnt on the edges, the other still slightly undercooked. He scrambles to scrape them onto a plate before they completely char.
He takes a deep breath and sets the plate on the table in front of Edin. “Here you go."
Edin picks up his fork and pokes at the egg skeptically, but he doesn’t complain. Earth watches his son for a moment before returning to his own side of the kitchen to grab his cup of coffee. He takes a tentative sip, and immediately his face scrunches up. The bitterness hits him like a punch to the gut.
He forgot to add sugar. Again.
With a sigh, he sets the mug down and glances at the clock. He doesn’t have time to fix it, and there’s certainly no time to start over with breakfast. He looks at the mess he’s made: burnt eggs on his own plate, unsweetened coffee, and toast that’s more charcoal than bread.
“Not exactly a gourmet breakfast, huh?” he mutters to himself as he sits down across from Edin.
Edin looks up with his usual wide, curious eyes. “It’s okay, Daddy,” he says, ever the optimist. “I like crunchy stuff.” He bites into the toast, making a loud crunching sound that almost makes Earth laugh despite himself.
“Glad someone does,” Earth replies, forcing a smile as he pushes his own burnt eggs around the plate. He’s too anxious to eat much anyway. His mind is already on the day ahead—getting Edin to his new preschool, making it to work without being late, and the mountain of tasks waiting for him once he’s there.
There’s always something.
As he watches Edin eat, Earth feels that familiar pang of guilt. This morning is a perfect example of how things have been since he became a single father—rushed, imperfect, and barely held together by sheer determination. He wants to do better, to give Edin more than burnt eggs and a father who’s always running late. But sometimes it feels like no matter how hard he tries, it’s never quite enough.
As soon as Edin is done with his breakfast, Earth tidies the table and grabs his son's shoes. "Come on, buddy, let’s get your shoes on," Earth says, crouching down to help Edin with his sneakers.
Earth feels a twinge of sadness as puts on Edin's socks. Edin had to switch schools because of Earth’s demanding job as an architect. The new preschool is a bit close to his office, which should make drop-offs and pick-ups easier—at least, that’s the hope.
