His eyes slowly open. He rolls over to check his phone that sits on the small wooden bedside table. Seven-thirty. He lays there trying not to wake my mother from her deep sleep. As he is scrolling through the news on the Detroit Free Press app on his iPad, and listening to 97.1 The Ticket on his phone, he feels a rumbling in his stomach. He knows that if he were to get up and make food, he runs the risk of making too much noise and waking my mom. And we all know that, that is never a good thing to have happen, especially on a Sunday morning.

He rolls out of bed, searches for his sweatpants and a sweatshirt to get dressed. Upon walking into the kitchen he unplugs his earbuds for the whole house to hear the sports talk radio guys arguing over something that happened the night before. From there he goes to sit on the couch watching his old His feet are so heavy I can hear him walking towards the basement in which I lay "sleeping".

"Are you awake?" he said loud enough for only me to hear.

I roll over to check my phone. The light is too bright I can barely make out the time, 8:17. I take a couple minutes to answer, "Yeah" due to my disorientation.

"Do you want to go get some breakfast?"

In my mind I say, "is that even a question?" But I settle for the more conventional, "Yeah, give a sec."

I throw on my clothes in a flash and rush to brush my teeth, because we have to beat the "church rush".

Dad has already been in the car by now with is running. As I get in, he turns to me to say, "so, where do you want to go?

"Doesn't matter to me," I say.

"No, are you thinking more of a Westside? or Mega?"

"Westside."

We've been going there ever since I can remember.

"Okay, let's go."