It was Mother’s Day. In 1991.
I was only 8. At that age, it’s perfectly natural for your imagination to kick into overdrive. There were so many things I’d imagine surprising her with. So many things I wanted to make for her. So many things I wanted to buy for her. Unfortunately, at that age, you also have limited financial resources. So all imaginations and wants came to a halt.
But I still wanted to do something special for her.
So I chose breakfast in bed. Yes, cooking. At that age. That was like volunteering myself as a human sacrifice in an ancient ritual killing AND giving my barbie doll collection to the founder and co-founder of that cult. So yes. BEST MOTHER’S DAY GIFT EVERRRR.
I was going to surprise her with home-cooked eggs, sausages, baked beans, with toasted bread. All from the pantry. All of which she paid for. Ah, the simplicity of being 8.
It was as early as 7am. I slaved myself into the kitchen with one eye open. Being 8 also meant that you were vertically challenged, so I had to pull a chair from the dining table to the kitchen stove. I also remembered burning the first few eggs. I guess some things really never change.
Eventually, my sunny side up came out acceptable. The sausages looked slightly shrunk but still visible and 60% edible. And the toast, as usual, was a bit burnt. Just a BIT. The only thing that looked like it was supposed to, were the baked beans. Yes yes, because it came out of the can. But I microwaved it perfectly.
Once everything was settled, I decided to present my scrumptious surprise with a side order of cereal and milk. That turned out to be the main meal –if not the only edible meal– after all. That, and a tall glass of orange juice. Apparently, adding splashes of soy sauce, table spoons full of salt, and dashes of pepper into every dish was a bit too overwhelming. My ultra-imaginative senses told me that more ingredient meant tastier food. It lied.
One thing I’ll never forget was her expression. She smiled wider than a sunny side up. Her face glowed brighter than a glow stick in a rock concert and her eyes almost teary like a diamond. It was priceless.
I was her BEST CHILD EVERRRR (To my siblings, sorry you had to find out this way).
Today, I woke up to an equally fantastic surprise. Raja made me breakfast in bed. Not because of any occasion. Not because of a fight. Not because he was held at gun point. But just because he felt like it.
I smiled wider than a sunny side up. My face glowed brighter than a glow stick in a rock concert. And my eyes almost teary like a diamond. It was and still is priceless.
For a single moment, he made me feel the same way I think and hope my mum felt in 1991. And I love him for it. BEST HUSBAND EVERRRR. I love you baby.
Just some random pic I dug up.
gloatpost!