In our house most celebrations are accompanied by a side of crispy bacon. It is not something we really do on purpose. Happiness simply begets more happiness. And I think the cured underbelly of a pig is one of the most joyous aspects of earthbound living. It just makes sense to eat it when you have something to smile about. The day Riley said he wanted to marry me we were hundreds of miles apart. No matter. A BLT kept me company. On a June morning nearly four years ago, we found out we were going to be parents for the first time. Dinner that night was bacon and pancakes and more bacon. When Riley graduated, his parents took us all to Cracker Barrel. The stars were out and that turkey dinner sure did look good, but it just didn't feel right. A night like that called for something more. I waved the waitress over.
"Do you serve breakfast all day?"
You bet your bacon they do.
We have a lot of things to celebrate in our little lives. Consequently, Margaret has grown up with a hearty love for that saltiest of breakfast meats. Last night after bath and prayers and ONE MORE STORY, MOMMY, PLEASE? I turned out the lights and said goodnight.
"COULD YOU BE COOKING THE BACON TOMORROW? WHEN I WAKE UP?"
So this morning I made bacon. It crackled and curled and filled the house with that food-fit-for-Olympus smell. And I felt like we ought to be rejoicing over something, but it was just an ordinary laundry and dusting kind of day. I looked around the kitchen. There were dishes in the sink and cheerios on the floor. My tie wearing husband sat at the table with out blue eyed little girls. I smiled. Dear me. I get a morning with those three every day. And that is something worth celebrating.
Time to buy more bacon.