Rose Jackson opened one eye then closed it again as a bright early-morning sunbeam angled in through the window. “Who opened the curtains?” she wondered to herself. She opened her eye again more slowly as she became aware of the pleasant aroma of coffee that seemed to be wafting in from outside. As things came into focus she realized that the aroma was emanating from a cup of coffee that sat on her bedside table, steaming slightly in the cool morning air.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” said Andrew, who had set the coffee down a moment earlier.
“Is that what it is?” said Rose, rolling over as she spoke and sitting up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “Ah yes, coffee,” she added as she reached for the cup. “You’re so sweet.”
“Are you talking to me or to the coffee?” asked Andrew.
“Both,” said Rose with a smile. She took a sip and then smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
“You are most welcome,” said Andrew. “And I hope you’re hungry. In honour of the good old days when the kids used to make Mother’s Day breakfast for you, I have spent the last hour making a horrible mess in the kitchen, which you can clean up later, in order to offer you breakfast in bed.”
“You shouldn’t have,” said Rose. “Seriously. But what’s on the menu?”
“Burnt toast,” said Andrew. “And I dirtied every utensil in the kitchen to achieve it. For old time’s sake. Because I love you.”
Rose took another sip. “Well, you nailed the coffee anyway,” she said. “Remember the Mother’s Day when I had to throw out two of my best pots after Randy and Brady cooked breakfast for me? I couldn’t get the oatmeal out of the copper bottom pot and the other pot was pretty useless with the handle melted off.” She smiled again. “Good times,” she said.
“I’m not actually bringing you breakfast in bed,” said Andrew.
“Good,” said Rose. “Neither of us would enjoy that.” She tilted her head back and sniffed the air. “Do I smell bacon?” she asked.
“You do indeed,” said Andrew. “The menu includes bacon this morning. And not that so-called Canadian bacon which is really just ham that somebody accidentally sliced too thin. I’m talking the real stuff. Side bacon, salted, smoked and fried to a perfect juicy crispness, resting on a bed of shredded hash browns fried in butter and infused with rosemary, onion, garlic, and a hint of Bothwell smoked cheddar. Not to mention two fresh eggs, over easy.”
“And burnt toast?”
“Yes of course. Burnt toast.”
“Sounds delicious,” said Rose. “I’m starving.”
“Good,” said Andrew. “So am I. Despite the fact that I had to keep sampling the bacon to make sure I got it just right. Which I did, I think.”
“Let’s go find out,” said Rose swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sliding her feet into her slippers. She stood up, gave Andrew a hug and a kiss and padded off to the kitchen, with Andrew following behind. A few moments later they were seated at the table, digging in.
“This really is delicious,” she said. “Is there such a thing as a dish that can’t be improved with a hint of Bothwell smoked cheddar I wonder?”
“I doubt it,” said Andrew.
“It looks like a lovely day outside,” said Rose. “Everything is turning so green. We should go out.”
“It’s your day,” said Andrew, “so we will do whatever you want, as long as what you want is what we already planned for you.”
“There’s a plan, is there?” said Rose.
“Yup,” said Andrew.
“Lay it on me,” said Rose.
“We begin with breakfast of course,” said Andrew. “Then we sit in the hot tub for a bit and watch the sun warm up the outside world for us. After that we get in the car and go pick up Grant and Karen, and the four of us head off on an aimless drive through the countryside, wherever the wind takes us. When we get hungry we stop for a bite in some little country diner where they still make hamburgers with real beef and then destroy them with Kraft cheese slices. When we get home we have a nap. After our nap we go to the farm, where the kids are making dinner for us.”
“All the kids?” said Rose.
“All of them,” said Andrew. “And the grandkids.”
Rose picked up a slice of bacon with her fingers. “It’s perfect,” she said.
“What is?” said Andrew. “The bacon, or the plan?”
“Both my darling,” said Rose. “Definitely both.”