Anniversary Morning

            Exhausted, I cracked an eye open.  Light streamed in through the window above my head.  I glanced over at the baby.  How long had she been smacking her lips?  She spotted my face and let out a hungry squawk.  I scooped up the tiny little person and began to nurse. 

Gradually, my brain emerged from its sleepy fog and I could hear the other children in the kitchen.  “What time is it?” I wondered.  I hoped we weren’t late for school.  Carefully, so as not to disturb munchkin’s breakfast, I craned my neck around to look at the clock on the night stand.  “7:11; make a wish,” the childhood phrase popped through my head.  That should be plenty of time.

Andrew had only been gone for two days and I was already scraping for an extra dose of energy to survive the next four. 

A minute later, someone knocked on the bedroom door.

“You can come in,” I called.

The door opened just enough for Martin’s head to poke through. “Mom, can you stay in bed? We want to bring you breakfast in bed.”

Did I hear right?  I must still be dreaming.

“You want to bring me breakfast in bed?” I repeated.  “Sure, I can stay here!”

And the door closed.

As the baby continued her rhythmic sucking, I pondered, “What could have gotten into the kids this morning?  Why were they being so nice to me?”

Another knock on the door. 

“Come in.”

This time the door flew open and James hopped in, holding up what appeared to be two or three pieces of copy paper taped together.  He stood in the middle of the room, beaming.  I realized he was waiting for me to notice something on his hand-made banner, but I couldn’t see a thing.

“Oh, I wish I had my glasses on so I could see it!” I said.

Understanding, he explained, “It says ‘Happy Anniversary!’” and ran out of the room.

A light bulb clicked on in my head.  It’s May 1^st, my wedding anniversary.  How sweet of the children to remember, and to want to celebrate!

By this time, the baby had finished her meal. She let out a satisfied belch and I gently placed her on the bed.  Again, the bedroom door flung open.  I grabbed at the bedside table and, finding my glasses, I placed them on my face.  Martin stood next to the bed holding a cookie sheet. On it sat a plate piled high with scrambled eggs.  He must have cooked at least half a dozen.  I made a place on the bed for the cookie sheet and properly expressed amazement and gratitude.  Luke, who had followed Martin in, climbed up on the bed.  He obviously wanted to share my feast. He clearly needed a diaper change, too.  Oh, well.

James appeared at my bedside with another cookie sheet holding another plate.  He had sliced pieces of grapefruit for me. Mmmm.  I love a good, ripe, pink grapefruit. I took the grapefruit plate and placed it next to the scrambled eggs.

Next, Mary entered with yet another cookie sheet and a plate of toast. She also remembered the knife, fork and spoon.  Ah, my wonderful, thoughtful daughter, who surely instigated the entire scheme.

I thanked my children for the breakfast.  I kissed the ones I could reach. I gave Luke the first two bites of scrambled egg.  And I realized I am the luckiest Mom in the whole wide world.

Happy 12^th Anniversary, my wonderful husband.