Chapter One (PJ)
Wouldn’t you know it? One of the few mornings I was told to sleep in and I woke before the sun peered over the horizon!
Yawning, I picked the gravel from my tear ducts. Maybe I could sneak down to the kitchen, make myself a cup of tea and sneak back upstairs before anyone found out! The theme to Mission Impossible played in my head. Larry didn’t even stir as I eased out of bed.
I padded silently down the hall, past the kid’s rooms, to the stairs. The sound of my Mother’s Day Munchkins wafted up from the kitchen.
I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry...
Chapter Two (Vicki)
I didn't want to spoil the enchantment of what was unfolding downstairs. I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry... My ears grabbed every little snippet they could; the cup of tea unimportant.
My heart swelled at the sounds of cupboard doors banging shut amid the swoosh of the refrigerator door. Glasses and china plates chimed as they joined in the dance with the pots and pans. Words were spoken in changing crescendos along with all the giggles.
The tune in my mind was gone, replaced with visions of a younger me in the same kitchen, making the same noises, for the same reason.
And memories of Mama...
Chapter Three (PJ)
Suddenly Ethan, with all the authority his 8-year old voice could muster, said, “No, Megan! Stop! That’s not how you do it! The shell doesn’t get mixed in! Why don’t you go get the bread out?
Megan’s response was predictable. “I never get to do the fun part! I’m not a baby, you know.” She wasn’t quite 6.
It could have been me and my brother, Roger, making breakfast for Mama. Older brothers could be so bossy! I’d been on bread duty once and burned the toast that year. Mama ate it anyway.
I watched my memories like a movie. I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry..
Chapter Four (Vicki)
Chapter Four (Vicki)
Aww yes, burnt toast, .
And Roger being Mr Bossy Butt.
Scrambled eggs, scorched hash browns, and my burnt toast. I wanted to make Pop Tarts but Bossy Butt said that was dumb.
A found dandelion added to the tray, the anticipation of seeing Mama's face, and me doing my best balancing act up the stairs
Roger wanted to do that too but I fussed loud enough.
I was being so careful.
Counting every step.
Holding my breath.
Then it happened.
Roger making a sound like rolling thunder.
The tray bouncing back down the stairs.
It's contents clanging against the wall.
I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry..
Chapter Five (PJ)
I'd dashed stealthily back down the hall to the bedroom before the kids discovered me.
The clatter had woken Larry up. He winked, put his index finger to his lips and hustled downstairs to help out.
Once I heard them in the kitchen, I crept back to eavesdrop.
Megan was in tears, Ethan was angry; they were volleying guilt with panache.
Larry spoke first. “Guys, guys – it doesn’t matter how it happened. Why don’t we take Mommy out for breakfast?”
Megan’s crying ceased. “We’ll get pancakes!”
“Mommy likes blueberry,” Ethan chimed in.
As I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry…
I said a prayer of thanks.
Chapter Six (Vicki)
Amid drying tears and giggles we scrambled into our compact car, deciding what would be the perfect unhealthy meal and wondering what we could do afterward to make the day special.
Wanting the kids to be mesmerized with life, we left IHOP and drove to the Museum of Technology.
Among the exhibits, we learned about alternative energy and communication for the future.
We took information on Scholarships and talked about who the kids would be as adults.
We didn't see the wayward semi truck that ran the red light.....
My last thought was of this morning as I listened to them from my perch on the top step and didn't know whether to laugh or to cry…
And memories of mama...
Keep Smilin (o:
Keep Smilin (o: