A Spoon for Hopper

Night crept into the room, and Hopper was still sitting quietly on our knit cushion. I wanted to bring him a present to show him what a good teacher he is. Creeping over toward the kitchen threshold, I spotted a small wooden honey spoon resting flat on a woven coaster on the floor. It was slender and smooth. My instinct wanted to snap it in half, but I took a deep breath, opened both plush hands wide, and cradled the wooden spoon gently across my chest. I carried it step by step back to Hopper and laid it neatly across his lap like a tiny ceremonial baton.