But he had been doing something much more important.
He had been trying to bring a small part of his father back into our home.
“Noah,” I said softly, “can I show you something?”
He looked up.
“What?”
“Your dad had a trick for flipping pancakes.”
His expression changed immediately.
“He did?”
“Well, he called it a trick. Mostly, he made a mess.”
Noah smiled.
“That sounds like Dad.”
I gently took the spatula.
“First, you have to wait until the bubbles start appearing on top.”
I pointed toward the pancake.
“See those?”
He nodded.
“And you can’t rush the edges. Your dad always said pancakes need patience.”
Noah watched closely.
When the pancake was ready, I slid the spatula underneath and flipped it.
It landed almost perfectly.
His eyes widened.
“Okay, that was pretty good.”
“Your father taught me.”
He grinned.
“Are you sure? Because his were usually terrible.”
