QUEEN OF THE HAY FIELD

Where I live, “fast food” means scrambled eggs and toast. When you live way out in the country in the middle of a hay field, you don’t have access to drive-through, take-out, or delivery. If you want to got out for an evening coffee date, you’d better plan to get to the gas station in Troy before it closes at nine.

Before we moved to Nowheresville (which is my favorite place on Earth), when the family came off the road after a long trip, we would call a Chinese restaurant a couple of blocks from the house and order dinner. We unpacked the van while our friends down the street cooked up a hot meal. The restaurant owners loved my kids and packed all kinds of goodies in with our meal – paper fans, lanterns, bamboo wall calendars. A Chinese dinner was a party celebrating the end of a long hard day of travel.

Best of all, road-weary Mom – moi – wasn’t stuck staring into an empty refrigerator wondering what to feed my great starving horde.

But back to life in the hay field…

I have often wondered why it is that, coming off the road, everyone else in the family assumes that Mom will be all gung ho about whipping something together for dinner. Actually, Mom just wants a hot shower, a glass of wine, and an early bedtime, folks. Forget dinner. We can eat tomorrow.

Maybe now you understand why it was such a huge blessing to me when I came home recently after a week away and sat down to a delicious dinner of roast, potatoes, carrots, green beans and freshly-baked rolls.

I had texted my youngest daughter earlier in the day: “Should be home around 7:00.”

Her reply: “Great! I’ll have dinner waiting.”

And then, this wonderful teenager cooked up a scrumptious meal and had it on the table when I walked in the door.

My princess…she made this mama feel like a queen.

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