a breakfast serial

One bite-sized story every morning to uplift, motivate, or provoke thought.

origin of a nickname

< by JHK >

Spaghetti sauce gurgled in the oven.
It represented hours of cooking gone by, and hours of dishwashing to come. The smell of tomatoes and garlic filled every nook of the house.

When dinnertime arrived, Ann set the table. I took the drink orders. After filling four glasses with milk, everyone gathered for prayer.

Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest.
Let this food to us be blessed. Amen.

I followed mom back into the kitchen. She retrieved the sauce and closed the oven door with one bump of the knee. Meanwhile, I drained the noodles and transferred them to a platter. Ann and dad waited at the table, forks poised.

As I stepped through the kitchen door, I outstretched the platter to display the feast. In a voice that smacked of Julia Child, I bellowed, “BON APPETIT—”

SPLAT.

The noodles wriggled around my feet, slippery and listless. I had slanted the platter too far.

For a split-second, everyone fell silent. Just as I feared the worst, mom burst out laughing.
Years later, they still call me Spilly Jilly.

No comments yet»

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: