Bran flakes remind me of early mornings before school at my grandparent’s house. My grandma would pour the coarse, flavorless cereal into the bottom of my bowl, covering the blue fish painted at the bottom of it. On the table was a jar of raisins and I quickly dug out a spoonful and added them to my bowl before my grandma poured the milk over top. The trick to eating bran flakes was to eat them fast enough so they wouldn’t get soggy from the milk, otherwise there was no joy in eating them at all. The raisins helped disguise the healthiness although they usually disappeared in the first few bites.

Some mornings we had grapefruit, sliced in half and served in a bowl with one of grandma’s special pointy spoons. The spoons looked like miniature garden spades and would have only been useful for squirrels. The grapefruits came from the back yard, picked fresh by my grandparents using their mile-high grapefruit picking pole. My brothers and I would often help them pick the fruit, the long, heavy pole swaying unsteadily through the branches of the tree. I preferred the bitter taste of grapefruit to the cereal because I liked feeling my mouth pucker from the tartness. My grandma would sprinkle a spoonful of sugar over the cut half of the fruit and I would watch as the crystals quickly absorbed the juice. The grapefruit spoon was the perfect size for shoveling chunks of grapefruit out of the rind and when I was done I would grab the empty rind and wring the remaining juice straight into my mouth. I would get up from the table with arms covered in grapefruit juice.

Those early mornings spent at my grandparent’s kitchen table didn’t feel special at the time, although I know much better now. I still love the taste of grapefruit, and I still don’t think I’ve ever been brave enough to try bran flakes without raisins.