When I was a little girl, Mother’s Day was that special day when I got to feel all grown up and do something exceptional for my mother. I didn’t have any money to get her an extraordinary present. (Really what child has more than a few coins stashed away?) But what I did have was my creative spirit and boundless energy.
Every Mother’s Day morning I woke up early, rushed to the kitchen and cooked my mom breakfast. I confidently gathered ingredients from the cupboard and refrigerator and proudly stood before the stove as the food cooked. It was at that moment I always realized my mother should have a card. So, with that same exuberant energy, I collected my crayons and drawing paper to create some sensational masterpiece. While I drew the card, the food would stay on the oven – slowly burning.
After completing the card of brightly colored stick figures and scraping the burnt food onto a plate, I put the entire display on a small tray and brought it upstairs to my mother – who dutifully waited in bed. With motherly devotion she oohed and awed over my card (by now stained from my food covered fingers) and ate the burnt food – exclaiming it was delicious.
Only years later did I realize that my mom possibly pushed aside the egg shells that undoubtedly fell into her scrambled eggs, she certainly dreaded the mess I made in the kitchen, and she probably disliked stepping on all the crayons splayed across the kitchen floor. On Mother’s Day, she let me feel grown up and experience the joy of caring for someone else. On Mother’s Day she was (as always) a fantastic mother. Thank you mom….and I’ll see you May 11 when I come over to make breakfast (without the eggshells).