When life runs out of eggs

A morning of crumbled toast & finding fullness in an empty tray

How was your day?
Well… it was nice?
What?
That's it? "It was nice???
Nah man, gimme more than that. Come on. Please! Let me in.

I peeled my eyes one by one and wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the morning. I knew I had to get out or the day would get ahead of me. So my mind turned on auto-pilot, and I began by brushing my pearly whites that look yellower by noon (but ignore that). I flipped the switch to start heating the water in the geyser.

End-November means beginning of Delhi winters, and I don't know about you, but it’s time for hotter showers. Skin-piercing waterfall that's fire and relief at the same time. I could stand under the shower head for hours. But it makes human hair and skin super dry, so not advisable. I feel micro-guilt for enjoying it hot, so I turn the water knob all the way to the other side. A stream of fast-flowing icy water trickles through my wet locks and starts cooling my arms, rolls off my curves, drops in eight thin ropes from all eight fingers.

Sorry, you asked about my day! & I ventured deep instead of forward. I digress. I also take my apology back; it was half-hearted. More matter of habit than truth.

I've been cooking eggs for breakfast every day. I like them runny. Delicate water balloons of yolk. They taste of comfort. They taste of falling back. I can trust eggs on days I can trust nothing else. They carry me through the mood. Satiate the body’s desire for nutrition for a few hours till it figures out how to fight the day ahead.

Not that there’s much to fight about.

I exaggerate. I simply love eggs. Give them to me poached, fried, boiled, half-done. I’ll take them all. Relish them with delight.

This morning was different because there were no eggs in the tray.

I stared at the fridge like it might give me something I hadn't asked for, something I hadn’t thought of yet. Isn't that how life goes? Some mornings you open the door expecting your usual, and instead, you get nothing but cold air, an empty space where your routine should’ve been. No eggs, no safety net. And in that split second, you have to choose. Do you mourn the missing comfort, or do you adapt?

That’s the thing about life—sometimes it gives you a hollow tray where you expected warmth. It feels unfair, but maybe that’s the point??? Maybe the tray is never meant to be full forever. Maybe the lack forces us into a new kind of fullness, one that doesn’t rely on what’s been placed in front of us but on what we can create from the absence.

The things we cling to for comfort eventually run out. And that’s when we learn what we’re made of, how far we can stretch, how inventive we can be?

I had toast instead, slathered in butter like it could make up for the missing yolk. The bread, when bitten, crumbled into commotion on my plate. Funny how something so simple can also be so littering. Life, in its basic form, is just that—a collection of crumbs, falling where they may, and it's up to us to decide if we care to sweep them up or leave them be. I didn’t mind the mess this morning. In fact, I think I needed it.

So when you ask about my day, know this: it was crumbling toast, cold showers, and no eggs. But it was real. It was mine. And maybe that’s more than “nice.”

Maybe that’s everything.

If my crumbling-toast mornings and rambling musings felt like a chat over breakfast or made you nod with a knowing smile, feel free to send a little warmth my way!!! Thank youuuu ☕✨

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