I turn around at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Seconds later, Mom enters the kitchen, her brown hair rumpled from sleeping. Her very, very brown hair rumpled from sleeping...
"Did you dye your hair, Mom?" I ask with surprise. She rolls her eyes at anyone who dyes their hair, so it's not possible she did it herself, is it?
"The gray was getting embarrassing," she says curtly.
"It's alright. I'm not judging. Just wondering. Don't ruin my breakfast now, Mom." I say with a playful smile. She responds with a laugh and kisses my forehead.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you, too."
She smiles at me as she walks over to Dad to give him a kiss as well, and I smile back at her, although millions of questions are swimming in my mind. It seems like almost everything about them has changed. When I hear more footsteps running down the stairs, though, I push those thoughts away and turn, once again, to see my brother and sister come into the kitchen.