My first memory of Mother’s Day is the year that Maggy and I were old enough to orchestrate “breakfast in bed.” We told Mom to stay under the covers while we tottered in with a precariously balanced tray of toast, fruit salad, homemade cards, and a fresh-cut flower. We were proud. I think she was, too.
Mom never wants presents; she just loves to be cooked for. Over the years we’ve baked her many scones and muffins, and she has been very thankful. But our mama loves a savory breakfast like eggs Benedict. This year, I got wise to what she really wants, and made it a little lighter so she doesn’t have to feel bad eating it all.