During past years I have regaled many a reader with the accurate story of the Easter Pig and the specific reason we typically have ham on Easter Sunday. Our family celebrates this Christian holiday in a typical Midwestern fashion with friends and/or foes gathered around a large meal and yes, it’s typically ham. The reason for that is that my ham is a spectacular thing of beauty and no one breaks the cardinal rule of eating at our house. The rule is that if you don’t ask for seconds, you don’t get asked back.
This year was different. There was an Easter brunch available at one of the prominent jazz clubs in town, the Dakota. We gathered there to dine on their fine faire and it was scrumptious indeed. Servings were complete with music, appetizers, various entree’s and delectable desserts. Beverage containers were never empty and the service was par excellent! We enjoyed the meal with the children who still live nearby and it appeared that a good time was had by all.
Afterward, in the throes of a food coma, I felt a contentment seldom experienced by parents. It was not just the food but the fact that all of the children are now old enough and mature enough to get along with others. I noticed that at this point in time, everyone’s needs appeared to be met, nothing further was needed on my part. I reveled in the fact that there was NOT ONE MORE THING TO DO FOR ANYONE. No dishes to send home with leftovers (this is the Midwest, after all). No rides to be arranged for those who haven’t quite squared things with the motor vehicle department. No feathers to smooth over when not enough attention has been paid. No jokes at anyone’s expense. Cards and warm sentiments were exchanged without prompting. Everyone behaved and used their good table manners. This was truly a joyful holiday for a mother who has adult children and an adult husband.
Once back home, I sat in my chair and contemplated that nothing else needed doing, that all good things had happened and I was truly grateful for this gift from the universe. I did not plot or plan for this to happen at any other holiday. Sometimes mothers do that, to others and to themselves. This holiday, I was just content with the day. That makes for a Happy Easter.