As I've mentioned, Mom was a flight attendant. That meant she was gone from home a lot, but home a lot too. One of my favorite things to do was to make her breakfast in bed. On a Saturday morning, my brother and I would get up early and Mom would still be sleeping. (She might have gotten home late at night or maybe at 6am that morning.)
I'd enlist my brother in the kitchen to help. Mom had this great wicker bed table and I would lay a full First Class breakfast for her complete with linens, multiple pieces of silverware for the courses and a fresh rose from the garden. The menu was usually some melon, scrambled cheese eggs (a family favorite), maybe a piece of bacon or sausage, some toast or a fresh scratch baked biscuit. (I was quite a cook back then - as I am now.)
We'd open the curtains. I might have gotten my brother to take the tray into mom and we'd jump into bed with her with our own plates. I always made too much food for her. In retrospect she was probably pretty jetlagged. But who can complain when your two blonde kids come in with a full breakfast tray. We were happy to see her.
Chad and I found that wicker breakfast tray in her garage a few weeks ago. I pulled it down and talked about it. He didn't want it, so that's one thing that's coming back to LA with me.
It's a bittersweet memory for me. It's one of the things I did for my mom, because I wanted her to have that experience. Partly I wanted her to give her that experience, because that was the experience I myself wanted to have. It's going to be a bittersweet memory, because if I want that tray filled with breakfast again. I will probably have to do it. Instead of the experience of receiving it.
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