Late Night Scrambled Eggs

“One of my best friends moved to California”

One look at her face and I knew she’d had a tough day at school. Luca had followed me into the kitchen and I wasn’t sure what to tell a 7 year old who bid her best friend goodbye for the last time this afternoon.

I picked her up and placed her on the kitchen counter. As curious as I was to hear about her day, I didn’t want for her to walk through the painful memory again. So I asked if she wanted a late night snack.


She nodded.

I figured she’d ask for strawberry milk, Pirates Booty, or a slice of bread with just the right amount of butter.

“Will you make some scrambled eggs? I know how to crack them”

So I stirred while she cracked ten eggs. It was almost midnight before we sat next to each other at the table trying to figure out how salt makes eggs taste better.

“I know why your eggs cook faster than moms”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because you turn the stove to eight and mom only turns it up to five”

As I sat there next to my daughter I told myself that I must keep my mouth shut and listen. She grabbed the salt and shook it over her plate. More questions followed such as, “Is pepper the opposite of salt?”

And then she began to tell me about her day. I know where this leads. Her raspy voice touches my heart.

She tells me about her other friends. She tells me how much she likes her teacher and how excited she is to give her report on Germany at the end of the month. She asks if I’ll help her choose a treat to share with her class.

And then she stops talking and puts her fork down.

She’s trying as hard as she can to hide the tears, but a couple escape down her cheek and onto the table.

I wish her friend had been able to stay through the school year. I wish I could tell her she’ll see her friend again soon. But I don’t have the magic words to make everything better. The best I can do is be there to listen. Sometimes that’s all I can do.

She helped me pickup the dishes before brushing her teeth for the second time. As she gave me a hug she whispered, “I’m going to pray that Rebekah visits me in the summer”.

“Maybe Rebekah will do the same”, I replied.

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8 thoughts on “Late Night Scrambled Eggs

  1. Made me tear up too. You know I have a 7-year old daughter who also plays piano and who is also beautiful like Luca. So, it’s very easy for me to picture Luca’s pain.

    On Wednesday Josie was trying unsuccessfully not to cry because the dollhouse she made out of a milk carton, newspaper, watercolour paints and masking tape was not nearly as good as another Brownie girl coincidentally thought to make. SHE had also made furniture and the Brownie leader said that her’s was “impressive” but didn’t say anything about Josie’s who had to go last. No one said anything about hers. What was I to say or do?! There was really nothing. I said, “Maybe her mom helped. You got your idea all on your own and that’s what impresses me. You thought of it and executed it on your own. And you have lots of talents. You can’t be the best at everything.” But did that heal her broken heart? Not really. 😦


  2. @Natasha – I agree it’s just as if not more impressive that Josie came up with the idea on her own. Some parents jump in and take those opportunities away from their kids. I’m glad you didn’t.


  3. Aww. I remember my friend moving, and it seemed like the end of the world.

    Our moms would meet half-way every summer and do the old switcheroo for a week. Until summer, though, we got to send letters and pictures through the mail. At least kids have computers and email–that should help.


  4. It breaks my heart when my grandchildren have these sad experiences … I just have to keep telling myself this is how we all learn. I can relate to how she feels. I feel that way every time I think of not seeing my children and grandchildren who live so far away.


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