Drunken scrambled eggs

I would like to ask you all to please say a prayer for my mom. Also, I would like to tell you about how wonderful she is and that she makes the very best, drunken, scrambled eggs that I have ever tasted.

I ask you to say a prayer for my mom because she is in Salt Lake City for an appointment to have surgery, on her birthday of all days. From what I’m told, it’s a fairly routine surgery but an important one and is still surgery.

Now, I understand that some of you reading this don’t believe in the power of prayer but I do, so please hear my case for why you should humor me.

My mom’s name is Cyndi Kirkpatrick. She has an infectious smile, a warm heart and the patience of of a saint. She taught me to wear my seat belt, make my grandma Ida’s, world famous potato salad and to never sweat the small stuff. She is a voracious reader, a talented artist and my youngest son’s best friend. Also, when she gets a little toasted, she makes the best damn scrambled eggs in the world.

This is one of those details that just sort of stick out from my childhood. It’s not as though my mom was getting loaded every night but she knew how to have a good time. It was the 80’s when sleepovers didn’t require a background check and 24/7 digital monitoring. Every once in a while my parents would go out to the bar and leave me and a friend home to stay up late watching horror movies and eating junk food. It was glorious.

And when they got home, my mom would make us eggs. Looking back, it seems so ridiculous. It was 2 in the morning, why would we need eggs? Well we were 12 year old, bottomless pits and the eggs were magical, that’s why.

To this day, I can hear the sizzling pan, smell the onion and taste the cheddar. I’ve made eggs most days of my adult life and they have never lived up to these memories.

Of course, these drunken scrambled eggs are just a metaphor for why my mom is so beautiful. She is a force of kindness and love. Even the scolding tone with which she would invoke my middle name is a fond and lovely memory. She’s the kind of person who understands the importance of both seeking and spreading joy. Ultimately, this is her defining characteristic.

So again, I ask you to please say a prayer that my mom’s surgery goes as flawlessly as the doctor’s believe that it will so that she may continue her joy quest, unabated.

There is a future where, if you are lucky, she may get drunk and cook you eggs as well.

Thanks and God bless.

One comment

Leave a Reply