Butter, Honey, and Crumbs

My mom is not doing so well these days. I was thinking about her today and some of my favorite memories.

We use to drive mom crazy before bed time. Us three boys would fight and carry on (just goofing around) and mom would get madder and madder because we were not going to bed. Sooner or later she would go to the cupboard and pull out the strap. A wide thick leather strap about a foot and a half long (or at least what my mind remembers it looked like).

We would all squeal and get scared and start running up the stairs and she would be chasing us, following us up the stairs too. Before she made it to the top she would start laughing and so would we. We never did get the strap (at least what I can remember) and we always went to bed once the little charade was over.

Mom was a great cook and many times we would come home and there would be fresh bread on the counter. Still warm. Mom is “fresh baked bread” for me. The aroma is so awesome. One day I came home alone from school to fresh bread. 6 loafs . . . They were still warm. . . No one was around. . . I love crusts. . . Mom’s crusts. Well, I proceeded to cut off all the crusts on all the loaves. Crusts, butter, honey and me. It was great.

I cleaned up all the evidence (butter, honey, and crumbs) and just walked away like I was never there. All was okay until later that night.

D’oh!

jp

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